Snapshots
by Blissaster
Summary: Moments in Damian's life as he got to know Dickie, and came to love him. Even if he would never admit it. T for language.
1. Strangers

**Thanks to: **my betas: **anakinlove **and **BookJunkie**. Without them, this story would be full of grammar mistakes and any other mistakes.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part I**

**First Meeting**

The first time Damian met Grayson, he thought the man was an idiot. A bumbling idiot.

Then said idiot sneaked up on him and he knew that no matter how stupid Grayson acted, he still was his father's protégé.

* * *

**Hug**

Dick's attempt at hugging Damian would have ended bloody, had Dick's reflexes not been so sharp, for Damian's first instinct when Dick had grabbed him from behind was to pull his knife and jam it backward.

* * *

**Revenge**

Dick felt the prick of someone's eyes on him. In fact, he had been feeling the sensation since the moment he first stepped into the manor.

He knew from whom the glare was coming.

His baby brother.

Idly, he wondered what he had done to warrant such a heated glare.

Then Damian came, seemingly out of nowhere (and Dick was not surprised, really, the kid was the son of Batman after all, and had also been raised in the company of assassins), and kicked Dick in the shin, _hard_.

"What's that for?" Dick cried out as he jumped around comically on one foot, the other cradled in his hands.

"That's for yesterday's attack!" the kid said, head held haughtily before he turned around and walked away.

For a moment, Dick could only stare at his brother's fading back, wondering what the hell Damian meant by that. Then something clicked in his brain and he laughed.

_The kid thinks a hug was an attack!_

* * *

**Funeral**

Damian didn't understand. He knew that that man who was in the coffin was his father. But he didn't know anything about the man, except what little he had glimpsed in the few months he had lived with him. He shouldn't be attached.

And yet…

He still felt an unexplainable ache in his chest at the thought of never seeing the man again.

He felt something break.

* * *

**Respect**

With how annoyingly cheerful and sentimental Grayson was, Damian thought he would crumble at his father's funeral.

Grayson didn't.

He squared his shoulders, head held high, and endured it in silence.

Damian would not admit it, but that was when he started gaining respect for the man.

* * *

**Guardian**

When his father died, Damian thought that he would be sent back to his mother as soon as everything was settled. And as much as he hated to admit it, he dreaded the idea.

He didn't want to go back.

Then Grayson came, with a gentle smile on his face, and said, "I'm your guardian now."

And Damian sighed in relied, if only inwardly.

* * *

**Robin**

Damian wanted to be Robin, to be a part of the legacy his father had left behind.

So did Drake.

And Damian was sure that between them Grayson, as the acting Batman, would choose Drake over him. After all, Grayson had known Drake for much longer. Not to mention the fact that he was an _assassin_…

Damian was readying himself for disappointment when Grayson looked at Drake sadly, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry Tim, but Damian needs me more."

Damian wanted to argue, saying that no, he actually didn't need Grayson, but wisely kept it to himself.

Grayson chose him to be his Robin; that was all that mattered.

* * *

**Assassin**

"I'm an assassin."

"Were."

"What?"

"You were an assassin, not anymore."

"… What am I, then?"

"Robin. _My _Robin."

* * *

**Thank You**

The first thank you Damian got was from a mother whose daughter he had just saved.

"Thank you," The woman said, voice a choked whisper as she pulled her child close, kissing her face again and again as if she could not quite believe that she had gotten her girl back alive and unharmed. "Thank you," she said again, smiling at him even as tears streamed down her face.

Damian didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded before taking off. He didn't forget about that though. It felt... nice.

It made him think that saving people rather than killing them had its perks, despite much easier it is to do the latter.

* * *

**Pride**

What was nicer than getting a heartfelt "thank you" was to see Grayson look at him, a smile on his lips and pride in his eyes, saying, "Good job, kiddo."

* * *

**Weakness**

Damian might not show he was interested, but he knew there were rumors surrounding the new Batman, _his_ Batman.

He had heard that while Grayson was undoubtedly one of the best heroes out there, he was not fit to be the Batman.

He was too soft, they said. _Too kind._

Damian wondered how kindness could be a weakness.

* * *

**Job**

Damian knew better than anyone else how hard Grayson worked to live up to the Dark Knight's name.

Still, people talked.

That was when Damian decided that whatever Grayson's weakness was – his heart, his kindness, _whatever_ — he would cover it. Wasn't that Robin's job? _His_ job?

* * *

**Company**

It was late at night and Damian could not sleep.

Before he knew it he had walked towards his father's room, hoping to find some comfort there even while knowing that the room would be empty.

He stood in front of the double doors, faltering only for a second, before pushing them open.

He went to the king-size bed, but found it was already occupied.

Grayson was laying on it, his black hair a contrast against the pristine white of the pillow, the velvety blanket pulled around his shoulders.

For a moment Damian just stared at the man, too surprised to do anything else.

Then Grayson's eyes blinked open and Damian found himself captivated by those solemn blue eyes.

"Want to come in?" Grayson asked, his voice soft as he pushed open the cocoon of blanket surrounding him.

Damian said nothing as he climbed onto the bed, settling beside Grayson, an arm-length between them.

Then Grayson pulled him closer. "You'll fall," was his whispered excuse.

Damian knew that he would not. The bed was big enough for three grown men. But he nodded anyway, resting his head on Grayson's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Good night, Damian," Grayson whispered, putting an arm around Damian's waist in a protective embrace.

"Night." Content now, Damian let the steady rhythm of Grayson's heartbeat lull him to sleep.

* * *

**Taint**

Damian's mother said that he was tainted now. Worthless.

He tried to tell himself that it meant nothing, that what his mother thought of him didn't matter.

He was _not_ hurt. He ought not to be.

Still, it stung.

Then Grayson came and said, "You're quite perfect if you ask me." Damian just stared at him, wanting to believe him yet wary of doing so. "I can do without the attitude though." Grayson cracked a grin, ruffling Damian's hair affectionately.

Damian swatted his hand away, scowling, though it lacked the usual fierceness. He turned around and walked away, mumbling something about a "stupid cheesy idiot" under his breath.

* * *

**Care**

"I can take care of myself just fine, you don't need to…" Damian paused, looking for the appropriate word, "… _coddle_ me," he spat the word, face scrunched up in distaste.

Grayson merely raised an eyebrow. "I know," he said simply.

"Then—"

"But I want to."

And Damian had no answer to that.

* * *

**Death**

Damian had been taught that death was not something to fear. It was natural, a consequence for incompetent fools. And despite his change of heart to "save" rather than "kill", he didn't think that particular rule would change.

So when he failed his task to subdue some faceless criminal and fell off of the ten-story building, he didn't panic, nor did he scream for help - he merely closed his eyes, accepting his demise as a sufficient price to pay for his failure.

To his surprise, instead of meeting with the hard cold concrete, he found himself in another's arms, being caught mid-fall.

He opened his eyes and saw Grayson in his Batman suit stare back at him.

"I got you," Grayson said, calm and composed. His slightly shaking hands belied his fear though. And Damian thought if the Batman himself could get scared over this, maybe he could too. So instead of lashing out at the older man he rested his head on Grayson's shoulder, trembling hands tightening around his neck.

It was close. _Too _close.

* * *

**Want**

Damian was used to getting what he needed, anything he wanted. But it was never without a purpose. There was a reason behind everything he asked for, always. So when Grayson asked him what he wanted for his birthday he just stared at the man, not quite comprehending.

_What's the point?_

Damian would have expected irritation or even pity when Grayson finally realized that Damian didn't really understand the concept of wanting something for the sheer pleasure of it. But Grayson had smiled instead, gently, just like always, and explained it thoroughly.

* * *

**Birthday**

"I can get anything?" Damian asked, "_Anything?_" he emphasized.

Grayson nodded. "As long as it's humanly possible," he answered with a grin on his face.

Damian looked down, a frown marring his young face, a telltale sign that he was deep in thought. Then reluctantly, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing, he reached out towards Grayson. He blinked, and his hand fell back to his side. "I don't want anything," he lied, looking away from Grayson, knowing the older man would see his lie should they lock gazes.

He wasn't sure that he didn't want for Grayson to see through his lie though.

"I see," Grayson said.

And for a second, Damian felt a pang of disappointment shoot through him. He wished the man would push the issue.

Then…

"Alfred, please call my office and the school and tell them we can't go today," Grayson ordered. "Family emergency," he added, winking at Damian.

Unfazed, the old butler merely gave a curt "Yes, sir" in response.

Damian's head snapped up to look at Grayson. "What?" he asked, unable to hide his incredulity.

Grayson grinned cheekily. "Don't be shy, Little D; it's perfectly understandable if you want to spend the day with me. After all, no one can resist my charm."

Damian could only stare at Grayson for a while, before his brain – the part whose job it was to supply him with smartass comebacks — kicked in and he narrowed his eyes. "You wish!" he snarled aggressively, trying his damnedest to suppress the blush he could feel was coming.

Grayson's grin only widened. Damian's eye twitched and he kicked Grayson's shin before turning around and walking away, grumbling about a stupid big brother with too big of a head.

* * *

**Rides**

Grayson decided they would spend the day in the amusement park - where half of the rides were too childish for Damian's taste and the others were plain stupid. But Grayson forced him to ride every single of them.

What other choice did Damian have but to obey?

He did NOT enjoy every moment of it. Nope, not at all.

* * *

**Performer**

Dick was born a performer. He had learned how to act before anything else in his life - to always smile at the audience, no matter how he actually was feeling.

So it was just too easy for him to smile at anyone at anytime, even when all he wanted to do was to curl up in bed and just forget.

* * *

**Truth**

"You shouldn't smile that often."

Grayson blinked, taken aback by the out-of-the-blue and uncharacteristic comment from Damian, before he regained his composure and smiled at the kid. "And why's that?" he asked, humoring him.

Damian just shrugged. "It can't be normal."

Grayson's eyebrows raised in amusement. "And what _is_ normal in our lives?"

Another shrug. "It is impossible, even for you, to feel like smiling all the time."

A thoughtful pause. "Are you saying I shouldn't smile when I don't feel like it?"

"Maybe."

Silence.

"Thanks." Grayson smiled again. But this one was shaky and unsure and on the verge of crumbling down.

"That suits you better."

* * *

**Effort**

Dick knew that people talked behind his back – some that were brave enough did it right to his face — that as a Batman, he was failing.

But what did they know? He was doing his best.

Then Damian got kidnapped.

And Dick knew that his best wasn't good enough.

* * *

**Devil**

Grayson was a good person, that much Damian knew. He also knew that whatever people said, Grayson was not _that_ nice. The man was capable of some mean verbal insults and even meaner physical assaults when he felt compelled to.

Like now.

Grayson pinned the kidnapper to the wall, holding him in a chokehold. "That boy," Grayson said, his voice calm, belying the rage simmering underneath. "is _mine_. Touch him again and I'll kill you."

"Bluff!" the kidnapper scoffed. "You won't kill."

"I won't," Grayson admitted. "Then again, there are fates worse than death, no?" he was smiling then, a gleefully malicious smile.

Trembling, the kidnapper said nothing, not wanting to test whether the Batman was really serious.

People said Grayson was too kind, but when push came to shove, Damian knew the man was capable of being as terrifying as the devil himself.

* * *

**Rumor**

It was the next night when Todd came to "visit" the cave.

"There are rumors on the street," Todd said casually, though he kept his eyes on Grayson, "They say that the new Bat is just as scary as his predecessor."

"Is that so?" Grayson smiled, though his eyes remained cold.

"Yes."

"Well," Grayson's smile turned into a grin that could easily be described as predatory, bordering, even, on maniacal. "Let the rumors spread."

Todd seemed to be stunned, if only for a second, before he burst out laughing. His laughter echoed eerily in the cave. "We're not all that different, are we? You and I."

Damian just stared at Grayson, hoping that he would understand what the two of them were talking about. But Grayson was not looking at him, his gaze focused solely on Todd, eyes solemn, if tinged with the slightest bit of sadness.

"No, we're not," Grayson simply said. _We both will do anything to reach our goals._

* * *

**Distance**

Damian knew that since the kidnapping incident Drake had come to be wary of Grayson. As if the man would turn _ballistic_ on them.

Damian snorted. _As if_.

Grayson might be the devil when it came to villains, but when it came to his family he had too soft a heart.

So while Drake kept his distance. Damian stayed close.

* * *

**Anchor**

Everyone knew that Damian needed Dick, badly, even if the kid wouldn't admit it. Only a few people, though, knew that Dick needed his kid brother just as much.

Damian was Dick's anchor, the one who grounded him, keeping him from losing himself every night to grief stricken rage.

* * *

**Avoidance**

"You're avoiding me," Damian deadpanned. "Why?"

"Avoiding you?" Grayson parroted with just the right amount of disbelief. "What are you talking about, Damian?" he sounded truly confused and not a little indignant. Just as he should.

He could have fooled anyone with his act. Anyone but Damian, that is.

"Give me some credit, Grayson," Damian rolled his eyes impatiently. "I might be young, but I'm not stupid. I know you're avoiding me. What I want to know is why. Preferably now." He crossed his arms across his chest, letting the older man know that he would not be backing down anytime soon.

Grayson sighed. "I'm not avoiding you, Damian..."

"Then explain to me why you missed breakfast _and_ dinner for **ten days** in a row!" Damian snapped, temper rising. "Explain to me why I've been forbidden to patrol with you."

"I'm busy. And I don't think you're well enough to patrol," Grayson answered calmly.

"Bull!" Damian snapped. "Are you afraid of me?" Damian asked when Grayson kept silent.

Grayson's head snapped towards him at that. "What? No!" he denied vehemently. "Of course not! What would make you think that?"

"I don't know, maybe because I was raised as an assassin?" Damian asked sarcastically.

Grayson laughed, a genuine laugh, his eyes shining with mirth. "You know what, you're the cutest assassin I've seen. And I've seen plenty." He grinned.

Damian narrowed his eyes. He knew what strategy his guardian was employing: this was classic misdirection.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

Grayson sighed. "I'm not—"

"And don't lie." Damian cut off heatedly.

"Damian..."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I do," Grayson answered, "With my life."

"But not with this?" Damian pushed. "I thought we were partners?"

"I fear _for _you, dammit!" Grayson snapped.

Damian started, taken aback. That was not the answer he had expected. "Scared for me? Why?"

"I lost control, Damian," Grayson explained through gritted teeth. "I was so angry that there was nothing I wanted but to kill that bastard. What if..." he faltered.

And Damian understood now. "What if you lost control?"

Grayson didn't answer. He didn't need it to. It was clear from the shame-filled look on his face.

"You won't."

"You don't know that." Grayson pointed out calmly.

"Yes I do."

"Damian..."

"I can handle myself."

A weary sigh. "What if—"

"Don't you trust me?"

Grayson looked bewildered by the question, though he answered it nonetheless, once again, "With my life."

"Then trust me. I won't let anything happen." Damian said, locking eyes with the older man.

Grayson contemplated this for a while, before sighing. "Just... stay safe, okay?"

* * *

**Partner**

Damian was seething. Damn that Harper! How dare he come barging in to the cave, _uninvited_, and start insulting Grayson? Damn him to the deepest recess of hell!

And why the hell didn't Grayson say anything?

Despite popular belief, Damian knew the man could throw some nasty insults, if only he put his mind to it.

Then why—

And it dawned on Damian.

Harper was Grayson's friend.

Or at least, Grayson still thought so. Which meant he wouldn't defend himself against him anytime soon.

The job fell to Damian, then.

Without hesitating, Damian pulled the knife tucked under his shirt and threw it at the archer, aiming for his throat. Alerted, Harper stepped aside, the knife whizzing past him.

"Insult my partner once again and I'll kill you," Damian said in his most venomous voice.

"Damian," Grayson said automatically, half-chiding, half-exasperated. In that first moment he had recognized only Damian's tone and the violence of the act preceding. Then the boy's words sank in and he blinked. "What did you just say?" he asked slowly, blinking owlishly as if not quite believing what he had just heard.

"I'll kill him," Damian said in a deadpan, crossing his arms across his chest stubbornly. "In the most brutal way," he added as an afterthought.

Grayson blinked, a smile tugging up his lips. "And before that?"

* * *

**Nightmare**

Damian could not decide which nightmare was his worst: either that of failing Dick and watching him die or the one in which his mother barges in to snatch him away.

* * *

**Mother**

His mother came. She asked, no, _demanded_ he be returned to her.

_Returned_, he spat the word hatefully. As if he were merely a possession instead of a human being with free will.

Teeth gritted, hands clenched tight by his side, Damian was ready to snap at his mother. The only thing stopping him was Grayson's gentle hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to let him handle this. Damian backed away, though half-heartedly.

"I'll let Damian go," Grayson said softly, making Damian's head snap up to look at him, wanting, _needing_ to know if the man was being honest. But Grayson kept his gaze on Talia, refusing to meet Damian's eyes. "On one condition."

"Name it," Talia said, sure that she would be able to fulfill whatever it was he asked, one way or another.

"If Damian wants it," Grayson answered, as if it were obvious. He turned to look at Damian then, lips tugging up in a soft smile, blue eyes compassionate. "Do you want to go?" Damian was so taken aback by the question that for a moment all he could do was stare at Grayson. "It's all up to you, Damian," Grayson prompted at Damian's silence, "whether you want to stay, or leave."

Damian said nothing, but when Grayson let go of his shoulder, as if letting _Damian _go, instinctively, Damian reached out to Grayson, pulling his hand back. "No!" Damian cried out, not even thinking what he was doing as he did so.

And that was good enough for Grayson, it seemed, as he smiled down at Damian, blue eyes shining with... relief? pride? Damian couldn't tell.

"You heard him," Grayson said, focusing back on Talia.

"He's my son," Talia hissed angrily.

"Was," Grayson countered smoothly, not missing a beat. "Not anymore." He stepped in front of Damian protectively.

"I'll take him back," Talia promised, eyes blazing.

"You can try," Grayson said, head tilted back in a challenge. "You will fail."

Damian stared at Grayson's back, awed. True, Grayson had claimed guardianship over him, but Damian had never thought the man would actually fight his mother for him. After all, it was _his_ fight. And never in his life had someone tried to fight his battles for him. No one could be bothered to. Not that he would let them, of course. Still... It was nice having Grayson defend him.

He took hold of the hem of Grayson's shirt, hoping he could convey his gratitude in that simple gesture. Grayson looked at him over his shoulder and flashed him a bright smile.

* * *

**Determination**

Damian knew there was something wrong with Grayson the moment the man came to breakfast.

Grayson was smiling, as usual. But somehow his smile was different. It was less... bright, like there was something burdening him.

Damian frowned, not liking it. Grayson's cheery attitude annoyed him to no end, but this... listlessness was even more annoying.

He was determined to change it - to make Grayson his usual annoyingly cheerful self.

* * *

**Gloom**

It was the anniversary of his parents' deaths. It had been years. Still, it hurt.

He tried to act normal, if only for Damian's sake.

"Grayson."

"Yes?" Dick turned to look at his little brother.

Without saying anything, Damian stepped closer to him and wound his arms around his waist.

Dick just stood there. He was stumped. _What?_

Then he realized that Damian was hugging him.

Damian, the biological son of the Batman, who was raised as an assassin. Was. _Hugging_. Him. **Voluntarily!**

Dick smiled, and put his hand on Damian's back, pulling him closer.

Today looked brighter all of a sudden.

* * *

**Change**

At first, Damian was nothing but "Bruce's child" to him. Then somehow, it changed. It was "my brother" now, and "Little D" instead of plain "Damian".

* * *

**End of Part I**

**Thank you for reading. For those waiting for the so called sequel of Villains' Guidelines and/or Things Robin(s) Should Never Do, I'm so sorry. I still don't know if I'll ever finish them. Plot bunnies keep coming and leaving me as they please, never staying long enough for me to write them. Damn them! But worry not, Snapshots is already finished actually, I just choose to divide it to three parts, so I won't leave you hanging for long.  
**

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own them.


	2. Partners

**Thanks to: **my betas, **anakinlove **and **BookJunkie**. Without you two this baby wouldn't be this good.

With that said, enjoy!

* * *

**Part II**

**First Time**

"I love you."

The first time Damian heard Dick say those words he had frozen, eyes wide in shocked disbelief.

He knew that Dick cared about him, suspected his guardian liked him, sometimes wondered if he _loved _him — but to hear Dick say it so bluntly like that…

Damian could only stare at Dick, not knowing what to do. Then, gently, Dick pulled him into a hug. He guided Damian's hands to rest on the small of his back and tucked Damian's head to his shoulder. "I love you," he said again, voice a soft whisper.

Damian said nothing, he simply held on tighter.

* * *

**Name**

Grayson was more a member of his family to him than his mother, or anyone really. Damian had first understood this after Grayson had fought his mother for him.

So, wasn't it strange to call your family by their last name? Not to mention that Grayson's name should be Grayson-Wayne, since he had been adopted by his father. Even if Grayson chose not to use Wayne, for whatever reason, Damian liked to think of him as a Wayne anyway. It would be just stupid to call Grayson Grayson-Wayne. It was too long.

So, it was perfectly normal for Damian to start calling the man by his first name, right? Only, Richard sounded so formal, and he knew his guardian preferred his nickname, stupid as it was…

So...

"Dick," he tested, liking the way the word roll out of his tongue.

Grayson, Dick, turned to look at him, ready to scold him for using inappropriate language, but then he froze, mouth agape, blinking in astonishment.

Damian smirked. It seemed his guardian had realized that Damian didn't mean the word as a cuss. "Stupid," Damian said with a smug grin on his face. He walked away before Dick regained his composure. He was pretty sure the man would tease him endlessly about it.

But he supposed it would be worth it.

* * *

**Title**

Damian thought that being someone's little brother was not that great of a title.

Being Dick's little brother was not all that bad though.

In fact, Damian would do almost anything to be the only one with that certain title.

* * *

**Failure**

Somehow, failing Dick as his - what? ward? brother? - was worse than failing Batman as his Robin.

* * *

**Puzzle**

If people's hearts are puzzles, then Damian's would have been broken, with the pieces scattered all around, dented and stained.

Then Dick came. He patiently collected all the pieces one by one, repaired the dents he found, cleared the stains, polished them all until they shone, and put them back together again.

Admittedly, the picture was strange, a little bit darkened by lingering stains with little dents here and there. Damian couldn't care less though, at least now it was complete.

* * *

**Guard**

Dick was the first person to make Damian think that it was okay to lower his guard once in a while.

* * *

**Hug Monster**

It wasn't long for Damian to learn that Dick was relentless when it came to hugging. In fact, his guardian was a _Hug Monster_. No matter how hard Damian struggled, Dick would not let him go until he was satisfied.

So it would be so much easier for Damian to simply relax and let Dick squeeze the life out of him every time the older man chose to hug him.

If Dick claimed the younger boy enjoyed it, he was a liar!

* * *

**Hold**

Dick's hold on Damian was firm and Damian felt safe and secure in his guardian's arms.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Dick wouldn't let him go. Not without a fight, anyway.

* * *

**Baby**

"I'm not a baby!" Damian snarled in frustration, throwing anything close enough at his laughing brother.

Dick didn't falter; he kept dodging every random object – clock, pen, chapter books, hundred-page dictionaries— thrown at him. "No matter how old you get, you'll still be my baby brother. Unless, you know, Bruce goes and reproduces again. But that's not happening anytime soon, don't you think?" he teased, grinning from ear to ear as he waltzed smoothly closer to Damian.

Damian glared, crossing his arms across his chest, finally tired of throwing things. "I'm NOT a baby!"

"Of course," Dick cooed, his tone so condescending that it made Damian's eye twitch in annoyance.

Damian threw one last book – an encyclopedia of some kind — at Dick. He smirked as it connected with his brother's head, eliciting a loud "Ow!" from the man.

* * *

**Smile**

It was _strange_ to see the Batman smile.

But as Dick praised him for a job well done, a smile on his lips, Damian thought it was certainly not _bad_.

* * *

**Snow**

As far as Damian was concerned, snow was stupid. And snowball fights were even stupider. There was no way in hell he would get caught red-handed indulging in such a childish, not to mention embarrassing, behavior.

Or so he planned, until…

_Splat!_

The snowball hit him head on. It trickled down his face dramatically slowly.

Some feet away from him was Dick, with one hand around his stomach and the other pointing a finger at Damian. The man was laughing uproariously.

Damian's eye twitched. "You're _so_ dead!"

With a war cry, he started his _own_ attack.

* * *

**Season**

Damian's favorite season was surprisingly winter. Because then he would have a legitimate, and very rational, excuse to snuggle up to Dick.

Dick was sitting in the living room, a blanket snug around his shoulders and a book in his lap.

Damian came in with his own blanket around his shoulders, its tail dragging behind him.

Sensing Damian's presence, Dick looked up from his reading. "Hey, Baby Bird," he greeted, his usual smile plastered on his face. His only answer was a grunt. Used to it, he simply watched as Damian went towards the heater switch and turned it off. He thought the boy wanted to start a fight, but he simply walked to the couch and settled beside him instead.

Damian snuggled close to Dick.

Dick stared.

"I'm cold," was Damian's deadpanned explanation.

Dick rolled his eyes, but pulled his little brother closer.

* * *

**Cat**

Damian was just like a cat. He liked to growl, snarl and… cuddle.

And Dick didn't mind that. At all.

* * *

**Ice Cream**

The first time Dick treated Damian to ice cream, Damian had ordered a one scoop plain vanilla while Dick had asked for something with ridiculously long name which happened to be a multi-flavored concoction of seven scoops served in a bowl. That and an extra spoon.

When they had sat at their table, Dick had asked – more like demanded, really – for Damian's cone. Bewildered, Damian gave it without a fight.

Damian could only watch in awed wonder as Dick toppled what was once _Damian's_ ice cream into his own bowl, jabbed the extra spoon into it, and pushed the bowl so it sat conveniently in the middle of the table, within easy reach of both of them.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly at Dick's juvenile act, but Dick only grinned widely at him and said, "Dig in."

And Damian did.

* * *

**Teddy**

Dick found his old teddy plushie during their Annual Spring Cleaning. Good-naturedly, he offered to give it to Damian. Just as expected, Damian refused with a scowl. What was unexpected was...

"I already have one," Damian said.

Dick blinked, too surprised to do anything else. "You do?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Arms crossed across his chest, Damian huffed. "Of course I do." At Dick's disbelieving stare, he added. "Ask Pennyworth if you don't trust me."

And Dick did.

"How come I didn't know Damian has a plushie?"

"He does?" Alfred asked back, mirroring Dick's own incredulity.

"My thought exactly!" Dick said. "But he insists. It's a 'good one' he said, very soft and very nice. How can a teddy be nice anyway? Soft I understand, but nice?" he rambled. "Have you seen it? It has blue eyes and tan fur and black hair. Does teddy have hair nowadays?" he recited Damian's description of his mysterious teddy. "Oh, and it's even supposed to be human-size!"

"Ah," Alfred nodded as realization dawned on him. "I remember now."

"Really?" Dick looked at his grandfather figure in disbelief. "Does Damian have a name for it?"

"Him," Alfred corrected automatically. "And I believe Young Master Damian calls him 'Stupid'."

"'Stupid'?" Dick echoed incredulously. "Who call their plushies 'Stupid'?"

Alfred was smiling fondly at that. "Apparently Master Damian does."

* * *

**Endearment**

Only Damian who could make "Stupid" sound like an endearment.

* * *

**Sick**

Dick hated being sick so very much.

But as he lay on the couch, Damian by his side, his head on his kid brother's lap, Dick could not help but think that maybe being sick once in a while was not all that bad.

* * *

**Delusional**

Damian didn't mind spoiling Dick when the man was sick, later on if the man babbled about how nice Damian had been he could always say that Dick was delusional with fever, or something.

* * *

**Party**

Despite popular belief, Damian knew how to mingle with people at a party. It was just that he preferred to stay close to Dick just in case there was an attack, either from some major villain or the vultures that made up the female population.

* * *

**Streak**

Despite popular belief, Dick didn't mind all that much when Damian stayed close to him during a party. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he quite liked the arrangement.

After all, Damian wasn't the only one with a possessive streak.

* * *

**Choice**

Dick sighed. His current girlfriend – a curvy brunette with pretty green eyes whose name he didn't bother to remember (that was the whole point of using pet names, right?) — was… throwing a tantrum, for lack of a better word.

She insisted that he chose between Damian, his _baby brother_, and her.

There was no contest, honestly.

"Alfred, could you please escort her to the door?"

For a moment, the girl could only stare at him, mouth agape, as if not quite believing what he had just said. Then she regained her composure and with a harsh "No need!" she stomped her way out.

Now it was Damian's turn to stare at him.

"What?" Dick asked, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"You chose me," Damian deadpanned, "over her."

"Of course," Dick said, not missing a beat. "You come first, Little D. Always," he grinned at Damian, ruffling his hair affectionately.

As always, Damian swatted his hand away, grumbling about how he was not a baby.

Dick didn't miss the pleased smile gracing his lips, though.

* * *

**Kidnapping**

Damian hated being kidnapped, either as Robin or as a Wayne.

He didn't mind the fussing Dick always did after though. And certainly he didn't mind getting the first-row seat to watching the Batman go ballistic on the kidnappers.

* * *

**Rule**

It was not long before the criminals of Gotham learned that kidnapping Robin was not worth the effort.

One, the kid was too much of a bastard.

Two, he was too good at escaping.

And three, most importantly, because no amount of money could be worth the punishment Batman delivered afterwards.

* * *

**School**

Damian hated school. It was useless. It was a waste of time.

But Dick wanted him to go. Not to mention that it was an easy way for Damian to impress Dick, as Pennyworth had pointed out.

So Damian went.

* * *

**Insult**

The first time a classmate insulted him, Damian had punched the kid.

He wasn't surprised when he was called to the manor's library to "talk".

"I was provoked," Damian said before Dick could say anything.

"I know," Dick simply said, "But I also know that you're more than capable of countering whatever it was he said without resorting to any violence."

Damian frowned, thinking hard before his eyes widened as the real meaning behind Dick's words sank in. "Did you just suggest that I insult him back?" he asked incredulously, though by now he should not have been so surprised by his guardian's not-so-innocent quirks anymore.

Dick just shrugged nonchalantly, though the grin on his lips and the glint in his eyes belied his mischief. "Maybe."

Damian's lips tugged up in a matching grin.

* * *

**Friend**

When Dick first heard that Damian had a friend at school, he threw a celebratory party.

* * *

**Language**

"So, that's the bitch?"

"Jay! Watch your language!" Dick chided.

Jason glanced in Damian's direction, before his gaze turned back to Dick. "C'mon Dickie-bird, I can't corrupt what's already been corrupted."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Dick cried out indignantly.

"You're not exactly a saint yourself, are you?"

"Fuck you, Jay!" Dick growled.

A triumphant smirk. "See? That's what I mean, exactly."

* * *

**Helpless**

Damian hated criminals. Every one of them, from the good-for-nothing pea-for-a-brain goons to the psychotic major villains that ruled Gotham's underworld. But right now, he hated Scarecrow the most.

He kept his hands clenched by his side as he watched Dick curl in on himself, whimpering, pleading with his parents and Bruce and Damian and Drake and everyone in the family – including Todd, the fucking _Red Hood_ — to not leave him alone, whispering apologies for not being good enough, as a son, as a partner, as a brother, promising he would be better, try harder, if only they would stay with him.

"... Just please... Don't leave me alone..."

Damian's hands clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm the hell down, because no matter how satisfying it would be to go to the Asylum and kill Scarecrow – in the slowest, most painful way possible — it would not help Dick at all. And panicking certainly did not either.

"Work faster, dammit!" Damian snapped at Drake who was working on creating a new antidote for the improved fear gas.

"I will, if you stop barking at me!" Drake snapped back.

Damian forced himself not to retaliate. _Bickering won't help_, he kept reminding himself. _Bickering _won't_ fucking help!_

He gritted his teeth. How he hated feeling helpless.

* * *

**Never Alone**

"You're stuck with me." _I'm not going anywhere._

"Oh?" Dick raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting it, before a smile blossomed on his lips. "Glad to hear it."

* * *

**Monster**

That was what she said. And he knew she was lying. Damian even doubted that the brunette – one of many of Dick's ex-girlfriends — had enough brain, or knew him well enough, for her opinion to count. And it was not like he hadn't been called something worse before; hell Drake and Todd called him "Demon Brat" and "Hell Spawn" respectively on an almost daily basis. Yet... the word still stung him in an unexpectedly hurtful way.

He wondered if she was right. After all, he was – had been, he reminded himself — an assassin. He had killed people before. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that he would kill now if he thought it would keep those he cared about safe.

"Maybe she's right," Dick said calmly, "that you're a monster and I just never noticed."

Damian looked away, refusing to show Dick how much of an effect his words had on him, how much they hurt him. But Dick put a gentle hand on Damian's cheek, guiding him to look up at him, right in the eyes. "But you know what, I'll still love you anyway." Dick's voice was unbelievably soft as he said it, blue eyes full of affection, lips tugging up in a loving smile.

Damian buried his face into Dick's stomach, clutching his shirt tightly, his eyes burning. Damn his brother for always knowing what to say.

* * *

**Trust**

Damian wasn't afraid to let go, he trusted Dick would catch him.

* * *

**Possibility**

The first thing Damian had learned in his time as Robin was that in Gotham, anything was possible. _Anything_. Including him turning into an adult, Drake becoming invincible – though how the criminals thought it would help them was beyond him — or Dick oozing female pheromones and luring all kinds of males.

So when a girl, looking distinctly like Todd with her bluish-green eyes and black hair streaked with white showed up on the front door and demanded to see Dick, claiming he was Todd, Damian simply opened the door wider and yelled for Dick.

Stranger things had happened.

* * *

**Horror Movies**

Damian hated horror movies. They were stupid. Ghosts were not real after all, even if aliens were.

But watching them gave him an excuse to snuggle close to Dick, so he made sure to request one whenever they had a movie night.

* * *

**Family Drama**

While Damian hated horror flicks, Dick hated family dramas. They were too... cheesy. It annoyed him to no end to see a family so perfect. Because that couldn't be true. He knew that first hand.

His family might be a dysfunctional one, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

**Brother**

Dick was Damian's brother.

And Damian didn't like to share. Not with Drake, or Todd, or God forbid, Harper… or anyone, for that matter. Period.

* * *

**Stupid**

Damian hated Dick's stupid job as the head of Wayne Enterprise for many reasons.

One, it forced the man to too many stupid social gathering where stupid women – single or otherwise — clung to him all night.

Two, Dick's secretary was a stupid woman with stupid shiny blond hair and stupid big blue eyes who spent too many hours at Dick's side doing many stupid things.

And right now he hated the job because it forced Dick to go out of Gotham for a stupid business trip. For a damn week! And Damian couldn't go because he had stupid school!

* * *

**Phone Call**

"Hello Little D."

"Grayson."

"Do you miss me?"

"As if."

"How're you?"

"Fine."

"How's school?"

"Boring."

"O-kay..."

"..."

"Don't forget to do your homework, okay?"

A snort. "I won't"

"And don't go patrolling alone."

Another snort. "I can take care of myself just fine, you know."

"Damian..."

A sigh. "Alright."

Silence.

"Uh, see you on Friday?"

"Yes."

"... Bye?"

"Good bye."

"..."

"..."

"Damian, you should hang up."

"You called, _you_ hang up."

"That's childish and you know it."

"I don't care."

A sigh. "Fine. I'll hang up."

"Fine."

"I'm hanging up."

A sigh. "Just hang up, Dick."

Silence.

"On the count of three?"

A roll of eyes. "Fine."

"One... Two... Thr-"

"Damian, wait!"

An exasperated "What?"

A cheery "Love you, Little D!"

A grunt.

A mischievous "Sorry, didn't hear that. What did you say? Can you speak louder please?"

A grumble, then a yelled "Me too!" followed by a hurried click.

On his line, Dick was laughing.

* * *

**T-shirt**

It had been five days, twenty hours, and thirty-six minutes since Dick had gone on his stupid business trip, not that Damian was counting or anything.

And of course, he didn't miss the man. The only reason he was curling up on said man's bed was because it was bigger, even if Pennyworth said that every bed in the Manor was the same size (except maybe the one in his father's room).

And the oversized worn sweater he wore? It was Dick's old one. He was sure the man didn't need it anymore, so he took the liberty of wearing it, seeing as all of his sweaters and jackets and coats had become mysteriously dirty all of sudden.

In fact, his whole wardrobe had been dumped out of his window, somehow. It left him no choice but to wear Dick's too big clothes. It was terribly inconvenient.

* * *

**Contradiction**

Gotham National Airport, 09.23 A.M…

It was a school day, but here Damian was. Pennyworth dragged him here. Of course, if he wanted to, he could overpower the old butler, but Dick actually taught him some morals, one of them happened to be to respect your elder. He could subdue the butler, but without being able to hurt the man, it would be too complicated, so he simply did as he had been asked.

Besides, there was the advantage of not going to school, which was boring as all hell. He could afford missing school for few days. This was more important. Or so Pennyworth told him.

Dick was coming home today from his stupid business trip. _Finally._

Damian tapped his foot impatiently. He was waiting for Dick's plane to arrive, which was late, no surprise there. Why the man didn't use private jet was a mystery to him. He looked at his watch; it had only been five minutes since the last time. He scowled, irritated.

If he should wait for another five minutes he would not be responsible for his action…

And of course, that was when Damian spotted his guardian, or to be exact, Dick spotting them.

Dick waved his hand obnoxiously, jogging towards them.

"Gray—" Damian's greeting died in his lips as his guardian pulled him into a hug.

"Dami! I miss you!" Dick said, hugging Damian tightly, a wide grin on his face.

Damian tutted. "Stupid," was all he said.

Dick's grin widened as he felt small hands circling around his waist and resting on the small of his back.

_Talk about a contradiction._

* * *

**Fear**

Damian had never before feared for his life, let alone for another's. But as he watched Dick crumble down after being shot, he felt fear rush through him, numbing him.

* * *

**Plea**

They were in the hospital. Dick lay on the bed, his eyes closed and his skin pale. The doctor said that he would be okay when, _if_, he woke up.

It had been two days, and up until now there were no signs of that.

Damian held Dick's large hand in his two smaller ones, resting his temple on their joined hands. For once he did not mind showing his feelings, if only because they were completely alone.

"Come back, goddammit," he had demanded at first, pushing down fear with anger. When it didn't work, he resorted to pleading. "Come back, please."

And when those blue eyes were finally open, he felt relief surge through him.

* * *

**Exception**

"Listen to your daddy, Baby Bird," The criminal cooed mockingly. "You don't want to get hurt, do you?"

And Damian punched him in the face, hard. No one called him "Baby Bird" and got away with it.

Dick was the only exception.

* * *

**Drunk**

Dick didn't know how or why, but somehow Jason had been able to spike Damian's drink. And now the kid was drunk.

"C'mon kiddo, up to bed you go," he said, offering a hand to Damian.

Not heeding his hand, Damian stood up on wobbly legs and… latched on his legs.

Dick could only stare in disbelief. He blinked. Once, twice, thrice. Damian was still there, small hands around Dick's waist, head buried in his hip. Dick shook his head, a fond smile on his lips before he picked Damian up, perching the kid on his hip. Automatically, Damian's arms circled around Dick's neck, snuggling into his guardian's shoulder.

Smiling lovingly, Dick kissed the crown of Damian's head. "Love you, Little D."

Damian snuggled closer, mumbling in a slurred voice, "Lurve you too…"

Dick's face broke into a wide grin. He knew Damian loved him – or at least cared about him — but to hear the kid say it was a different matter altogether.

He made a mental note to thank Jason later.

* * *

**Swear Jar**

Was not effective on Damian, Dick knew. The kid even paid some beforehand just so he could cuss to his heart's content. So Dick tried another tactic.

"Fuck!" Damian swore.

And Dick hugged Damian, who froze instantly, before regaining his composure a while later. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Grayson?!" he snapped, struggling to push Dick away, to no avail.

"A hug for every swear word, Baby Bird," Dick answered happily.

"What?!"

"You heard me, Little D," Dick said in sing-song voice, his way too cheerful expression making Damian's eye twitch.

"You can't do that!" Damian protested.

"Of course I can, I just did, didn't I?" Dick grinned widely. "In fact, I even have Alfred's approval.

The arrangement worked wonderfully well, though later on, Dick would suspect that sometimes, Damian would simply cuss when he wanted a hug.

* * *

**Motorbike**

Damian liked the motorbike a lot more than the car. Because when they rode it, he could cling onto Dick without having to explain himself.

* * *

**Clueless**

For the greatest detective alive, Dick could be so annoyingly clueless sometimes.

Just like now.

They were eating at a restaurant. Damian didn't know if he should be proud or annoyed when everyone turned around to look at them, at his brother to be exact. He was sure, though, that he was annoyed by the waitress who was shamelessly flirting with Dick; standing too close to him –_way_ too close for Damian's liking –"accidentally" touching as she handed him the menu, bowing too low so as to give him a clear view of her cleavage... It was all just too obvious not to notice.

Yet...

Here Dick was, smiling friendly at her as he ordered and gave her back the menu, oblivious to it all.

At times like this, did Damian wished for super powers. Heat vision would come in handy.

* * *

**Blind**

For someone who could see right through his facades, Damian could be sweetly blind sometimes.

Just like now.

Cradling his cheek on his palm, Dick watched with an amused smile on his lips, as Damian glared heatedly at the waitress, as if willing her to spontaneously combust.

The waitress' moves on him were painfully obvious; of course he had noticed them. His cluelessness? It was faked. His reason? Because Damian was just too cute when he got aggravated every time people flirted with him.

Damian was so going to strangle him if he knew this though.

_Oh well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him_. Dick grinned.

* * *

**Adult**

Damian hated every criminal equally, but maybe he should thank that mad scientist for turning him to an adult, if only for a day.

He was grinning from ear to ear as he stood next to Dick, his six-one frame towering over the older man. Eyes narrowed, Dick was looking at him suspiciously. Unable to resist – nor did he want to — Damian ruffled Dick's hair. Dick scowled, swatting Damian's hand away.

Damian grinned. He started to understand why his guardian liked messing with his hair so much. It was nice. And as he thought that, he pulled Dick in a headlock and gave him a noogie. It earned him a whiny "Damian…!"

What was even nicer was being able to pull Dick close and snarling, "Back off, Bitch! This one's mine," and having women actually listen to him instead of squealing, "Trying to protect big brother, huh? So cute!" and trying to pinch his cheek.

The nicest of all though, now that he was taller than his guardian, was that he could let Dick lean on him and say, "I won't fall."

* * *

**Still**

Dick wasn't expecting Damian to be so touchy-feely when he turned into an adult, but it was not unwelcome.

In fact, Dick basked in it.

Then Damian pulled him close, tucking his head to his shoulder. Dick tensed, before relaxing, closing his eyes.

_This is nice_, he thought, liking the feeling of having someone he could lean on.

"I won't fall," Damian said.

"I know," Dick answered, smiling gently. "But…" his smile turned into a crooked grin and he swept Damian's legs under him. Not expecting the attack, Damian could do nothing but close his eyes as his knees buckled and he _was_ falling. A second later, Dick had Damian pinned to the floor.

Damian's eyes blinked open. He stared at Dick with wide gray-blue eyes, looking like the child that he was.

Dick grinned smugly, flicking Damian's forehead playfully. "I'm still your big brother."

* * *

**Gossip**

Dick knew that nothing good would come when Jason came for another "visit", a copy of _Gotham Gossips_ in hand.

"'Heir to Wayne Enterprises is Gay for a Mysterious Handsome Man'," Jason read the headline, grinning widely as he held up the paper for Dick to see. On the front page of the paper was the headline, which was written in big bold letters, and a photo of adult-Damian holding Dick possessively under it.

Dick scowled, never before hating being right this much. "Shut it, Jay," he growled. As if he had not had enough from Damian, who chose that exact moment to grow a sense of humor.

Ignoring Dick, Jason turned to Damian. "This is you?" He pointed to the picture.

Damian's grin was smug as he said, "Who else?"

Jason laughed at that, hand reaching to ruffle Damian's hair, though he thought better of it at the kid's glare. "I assume he's the girl in the relationship?" he asked, jabbing a thumb in Dick's direction.

"Hey, I'm right here!" Dick protested. Which fell to deaf ears.

"Of course," Damian said, his grin turning smugger, if that was possible.

Dick massaged his temple. He could already feel a massive headache coming on.

Of course, the one time two of his brothers get along would be at his expense.

_Oh well, at least they aren't trying to kill each other. Yet._

* * *

**Suitor**

When he saw the headline of Gotham Gossips, Jason was laughing, along with Damian.

When Damian's smug smirk turned to a fierce scowl at finding out that Dick still had admirers – stupid, stubborn admirers – Jason started laughing even harder.

By the time the first suitor came to ask Dick's hand in marriage –a _fucking _**marriage!** – who Damian tried to kill, but was successfully stopped by Dick, which the suitor-guy took as a yes, which led to a Damian-induced disaster, Jason was rolling on the floor holding his stomach and howling in laughter.

* * *

**Damian-speak**

"I love you," Dick said, an easy smile on his lips.

"Shut up." Was Damian's only answer before turning around and walking away. Then he stopped in his tracks. "By the way, I don't hate you," he said, not bothering to look at Dick over his shoulder.

Dick just grinned. He could see how red Damian's ears were from where he stood. Damian hated everyone equally. Saying that he didn't hate him…

_He might as well just say "I love you"._

* * *

**Finally, part II is done! Two's down, one to go! Tell me what you think!**_  
_

**Just saying, but I love Jason in here. Especially in _Drunk_ and _Suitor_. :)  
**

**Disclaimer: **see part I.


	3. Parents

**Thanks to:** The ever awesome **anakinlove** and **BookJunkie**! I won't get this far without you!

Sorry for the (very) late update! Excuse can be found at the bottom. That is if you want to read those. Enjoy!

* * *

**Part III**

**Father**

His father was coming back.

And it was good, great even, if only he wasn't so worried that Dick would leave.

* * *

**Choice**

If his father coming back meant Dick going away, then Damian had to choose between the father he looked up to and the… Whatever Dick was to him (what _was_ Dick to him? Guardian, brother, mentor? All three?).

It should be easy.

It wasn't.

Damian couldn't choose. He didn't want to.

_I would much rather all of us stay together._

* * *

**Irrational**

It was irrational, Damian's fear of being left behind by Dick. It wasn't like the man would choose to live in another hemisphere or something. He would just go to Bludhaven, Gotham's sister city. That was if, when (because Damian was a pessimist), he chose to go.

And even if – when – he _did_ go, Damian could always go to visit. And with how advanced technology was now, it wouldn't be an issue to keep in touch with the man.

Still…

* * *

**Leave**

"I heard that you're going back to Bludhaven."

"I am, but I—"

"Father's back, but that doesn't mean we don't need you here." _Doesn't mean I don't need you._

"Damian, I—"

"It's Gotham after all. No matter how many of us are out there, it'll never be enough."

"Damian! Listen to me, will you!" Dick snapped.

"Don't go!" Damian blurted out, an uncharacteristic desperation coloring his voice. "I'll behave, I promise! Just don't leave!"

"Damian, listen." Dick's face softened and he knelt down so he could be eye-level with his little brother.

"Why do you have to go? Is it because of me? Because I'm not good enough? I'll do better, I promise."

"It's not you, Little D. It's just—"

"I'll train harder. I'll do better at school! I'll even," Damian gulped, "socialize if that's what you want. Just, don't go."

Dick smiled at the last one, though it didn't last long. "Calm down, Damian."

"No! I don't want to calm down! I want you to stay!"

"I'm staying!"

"What? But you said..."

"Yes, I'm going to the 'Haven, but—"

"See?!"

"—only to settle things there, _then_ I'll come back here." When Damian only stared at him in disbelief Dick added, "I'll come back as soon as possible, alright?"

"So, it's not permanent?" Damian asked, for once sounding like the child that he was.

"No Damian, it's not."

"You'll come back?"

Dick nodded. "As soon as everything's settled."

"Oh."

"Do you really think I'd leave you two anti-social bullheads here on your own?" Dick asked, teasing.

"That's... good to hear."

Dick smiled, ruffling Damian's hair affectionately. Then his smile turned mischievous. "So, you love me that much, huh, baby bird?"

"Sh-shut up!"

Dick only laughed.

* * *

**Christmas**

Was the most dangerous time for criminals of Gotham City.

Because every year, Dick would plan for a family reunion. And he would go ballistic towards any villains who dared to… _disrupt_ his plans.

* * *

**Extreme**

Dick was the stubborn type, Damian knew that much.

The man could, and _would_ do anything to get what he wanted. He would go as far as going MIA for a month – freaking everyone in the family out — just so he could have a complete family reunion.

* * *

**Promise**

When Dick had gone missing, Bruce realized that no matter how mature Damian acted sometimes, he still was just a kid. This was all too clear when he looked at Damian curled up on Dick's bed, Dick's favorite blue hoodie held tight in his hands, face scrunched up as he stubbornly refused to cry.

Carefully, Bruce sat on the edge of the bed. Damian's grey-blue eyes snapped open, wide with hope. They dimmed when he saw the man was not the one he was waiting for. Bruce's heart broke.

"We will find him," Bruce swore softly, solemnly, hand reaching out to stroke Damian's hair.

"Promise?" Damian asked, for once sounding like a kid his age. One hand bringing the hoodie closer to his chest, he reached out to Bruce with the other.

Bruce smiled, hoping it was as reassuring as Dick's was, as he took the small hand in his. "Promise."

* * *

**Return**

It had been a month since Dick had been declared missing. And Damian knew, oh how he knew, that his brother was most probably dead. He sniffed, biting his lip so as to keep the tears at bay. When some still fell, he wiped at his eyes angrily. He would not cry, not for stupid, reckless, annoyingly cheerful, kind, gentle, understanding… He pushed the heel of his hand to his eye harder. He would NOT cry, dammit!

Then the door bell rang.

Damian started, back straightening, before he stood up and hurriedly ran to the door.

_It won't be Dick,_ he told himself. Because Dick liked to use the window instead of the door. But there was no harm in hoping right? Dick had said so!

Damian opened the front door, almost ripping it off its hinges with the force. Heart beating hard in his chest, he looked up…

And there Dick stood; a glint in his eyes, a grin on his lips. "Hello, Little D. Did you miss me?" he asked, tone teasing.

Damian flung himself at Dick. "You bastard!" he screamed, hands pounding on the man's chest.

"Whoa!" Dick exclaimed in surprise, catching Damian's hands. "What is it, Dami?" he asked softly, knowing the tantrum to be a sign of agitation.

"Where the hell were you!? Why didn't you call!? A text or an email, something! Hell, a freaking POSTCARD would do! _Anything _to help me know you were still **alive**!" Damian yelled furiously, glaring at his brother, though the effect was ruined by the tears pooling in his eyes.

Understanding dawning on him, Dick pulled Damian into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said, stroking Damian's hair gently. "I didn't mean to scare you like that."

Burying his face into Dick's shirt, Damian sniffed. "What did you want then?" he asked quietly.

Dick grinned, ruffling Damian's hair affectionately. "That." He pointed at something behind Damian. Not wanting to let go of his brother, Damian looked over his shoulder.

And there, his whole "family" stood.

* * *

**Reaction**

The first to react was Bruce, no surprise there. He gave Dick a quick once over. Seemingly satisfied with what he found, or rather what he didn't, he nodded in approval. Then grey-blue eyes narrowed in cold fury. "Care to tell me why you didn't remain in contact for an entire month?" he asked in a low growl, his tone holding a warning.

Dick was unfazed as he merely smiled cheerily. "Hello to you too, Bruce," he greeted. With one hand still holding Damian's shoulder, he waved at his father figure.

Bruce seemed to have more to say, but he was shoved aside by a furious Jason, who loaded his gun before emptying his arsenal shooting at Dick.

Dick simply closed his eyes, as if he had known Jason would purposefully miss. "Sorry I sent you on a wild goose chase, Jayjay."

Then came Tim, whose expression was dominated by worry, though it was tinged with exasperation. "Honestly Dick—" he never got a chance to finish before he was pushed aside by a giddy Steph who thought it was an appropriate time to pull Dick – along with Damian, who still refused to let go of his oldest brother – into a hug.

"Thank God, you're alive! We all were worried sick!" Steph gushed out.

Dick smiled, patting the blond's hair gently. "Having someone worrying over me openly rather than threatening me with severe bodily harm is nice for a change," he joked, grinning. Steph smacked his arm, laughing.

"Richard John Grayson."

Dick froze. He knew that voice. He gulped visibly. "Hi, Barb," he greeted, smiling nervously, as he looked down at one wheelchair-bound, very pissed off redhead. Barbara. He was _so_ dead. He only had a second to cover Damian's ears with his hands before Barbara started to yell at the top of her lungs; cursing him, damning him to hell and back again, telling him how stupidly reckless he was…

"Done, Barb?" Dick asked once the redhead had stopped her angry tirade. He cringed, rubbing his ringing ears. Barbara snorted in a most unlady-like manner, before wheeling herself away, giving way to Cass.

Cass just stood before him, head slightly tilted to the side, dark eyes assessing.

"Sorry for making you worried," Dick said, smiling still.

Cass stared for a moment. "You're not," she said, merely stating a fact without a tint of accusation.

Dick laughed at her keen observation. "Damn right, I'm not. I did get what I wanted, after all."

"Which is?" Cass inquired curiously.

"You all here together," Dick answered without missing a beat.

"And of course, you couldn't have simply called," Barbara snarked from the side.

Dick raised an eyebrow in her direction. "And we all know how well that's worked before," he retorted sarcastically. Barbara glared at him. Dick shrugged unapologetically.

"He has a point, you know," Steph chimed in. Barbara's glare turned to her, and she shrank away before hiding behind Cass, smiling sheepishly.

"I see you decided to come home at last."

Dick's head turned to look at the source of that familiar voice. "Alfie!" He exclaimed in delight. "I'd like to hug you, but my hands are kinda full at the moment," he gestured to Damian with his free hand. Alfred nodded, an understanding smile on his lips. "You seem to be awfully calm, Alf. Can I know why?"

"If I recall correctly, you pulled this kind of stunt once when you were a child and you came back safely. I merely assumed this would be a similar instance," the butler explained calmly.

"If I recall correctly," Dick stared, grinning teasingly, "I remember it was this one kind, if slightly cunning, grandfatherly gentleman who gave me the idea in the first place."

* * *

**Manipulation**

Damian was observant. He noticed things, like the fact that Dick was a Master Manipulator as much as his father was.

Dick just had a... different method.

While his father would make his demands in his gruff Batman voice to get people to obey him, no questions asked, Dick would just turn his puppy-dog eyes on and everyone would do anything he wanted.

* * *

**Bastard**

Damian was quick to learn that when Dick was asking him something, with that damn look on his face, nothing good could come from it. He didn't know how Dick was able to do it, but even at twenty-something-years-old Dick was still capable of pulling the sad kicked-puppy-in-the-rain look. One that guaranteed he would get away with almost anything with anyone, including his father.

Damian knew his brother knew this. In fact, he seemed to use it to his full capacity. The bastard.

The scariest part was that once Dick got that look, it was almost impossible to deny him anything.

* * *

**Blackmail**

And in the rare moment when his puppy-dog eyes failed, Dick would resort to the cunning way, also known as: blackmail.

"Stay, Jay? Please? Just for one night?"

"No," was Todd's firm answer.

"But Jay..." Dick's voice had gained a whiny quality to it.

"No means no, Dickie-bird. And that look doesn't work on me." Todd pointed out with a smug grin on his face.

Dick pouted, acting like a six year old who didn't get the toy he wanted. Then his face brightened, lips curling into a Cheshire grin, blue eyes lighting up with mischief. "You remember that time you got turned into a girl, Jay?" he asked casually.

Todd frowned, wary, not knowing where Dick was taking the conversation, but sure that wherever it went he would not like it. "Yeah. What of it?"

"You remember I took a photo?" Dick asked, still in that too-casual tone of voice.

"More like a freaking album, but yeah, I do," Todd grumbled, bluish-green eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I burned them all though. All of them. Remember?" he asked mockingly, grinning.

"Of course, that was a sad day," Dick said, looking actually sad. "But you see... I always have a backup," he pulled a chain from under his shirt, from which a USB was hanging. "Here."

Dead silence.

"Gimme that!" Todd roared, leaping to snatch the USB. Dick jumped out of Todd's reach, laughing all the way.

* * *

**Unforgiveable**

"I thought we already agreed that when any of your classmates, or anyone really, insult you, you should just insult them back instead of sending them to the hospital?"

"It was different."

"How?"

"They insulted you."

"Damian..."

"What did they say?"

"I don't think that's the problem, Bruce."

"They called him your charity case, your... _boytoy_."

"And you beat them?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Bruce! Don't encourage him!"

* * *

**Worry**

Dick could be really scary when he was angry. Or when he was worried.

Damian had learned that the hard way.

They had been after a gang of smugglers at the time. Everything had been going smoothly. Then Damian had noted that the leader was escaping. Caught in a rush of adrenaline, Damian had gone after the man, deliberately disobeying Dick's direct order not to.

He had succeeded in subduing the leader. And he had got a broken rib for his trouble.

He had expected to be complimented for another job well done. He had gotten shouted at instead (_after_ Dick had fussed over his injury, of course).

"What were you thinking? Did you even think _at all_?!"

"It was worth it!" Damian had protested. And certainly he would have protested more if Dick's glare hadn't stopped him.

"You could've been killed," Dick had pointed out, voice quieter now, rubbing his face wearily.

Damian had wanted to point out that there was _always _a possibility of them dying on patrol, but wisely chose to say nothing.

"I won't do it again," Damian had said instead. "I promise," he had added after a moment.

And that was the closest thing to an apology Damian could say.

Dick sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, knowing the promise as it was: a compromise. "You better not," he said, flashing a weak smile in Damian's direction.

* * *

**Immunity**

Later on, Damian would learn that even his father wasn't excluded from Dick's worry-induced anger.

"I thought you were dead, Bruce. DEAD! I believed that for MONTHS! Next time you find yourself in a fucked up situation, you should CALL FOR REINFORCEMENT, goddammit! What's the point of having children, _family_, if you can't count on them?!"

Dick's voice was crystal clear, even when there was a solid wall between him and his undisclosed audience.

"He's scary when he's angry, huh?" Drake cringed.

Damian couldn't agree more.

* * *

**Like Big Brother, Like Little Brother**

Bruce knew how scary Dick could be when he was worried.

And it seemed Damian was following in his big brother's footsteps in that particular matter.

"_What the hell were you thinking? Did you even think?!"_

Damian's voice was loud and clear.

"_Well, I was thinking that if I didn't do something, _anything_, there was a good chance I'd lose my baby brother."_

Contrary to Damian's angry voice, Dick's sounded composed. There was no doubt he was trying to calm the agitated boy by appealing to reason.

Bruce was sure it would fail. He had tried the same method with Dick over the years, and it never worked. Not even once.

"_I can take care of myself just fine!"_ came the yelled reply.

_See?_ Bruce smirked. He could imagine the weary look he was sure was on his eldest son's face. _Karma. _

* * *

**Trace**

Damian was... _relatively_ tame now compared to a year ago. Still, at times, his excessive training as an assassin would shine through...

"Can I kill him?" Damian asked casually, a batarang resting on the villain's neck, held steady by his small hand.

The first time Bruce heard Damian ask that, he was appalled. He was about to yell at the kid when Dick responded.

"No means no," Dick said, sounding exasperated, as if he had done this hundreds of times. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Killjoy," Damian grumbled. And if Bruce didn't know any better he would say that his youngest was pouting.

* * *

**Homicidal**

The funny – in a bizzare kind of funny — thing was, whenever Dick went homicidal, usually after one or more of his brothers had been threatened, it was Damian who stopped him.

"You should know better than to mess with my brother," Dick, not Nightwing, said with the kidnapper's handgun in his hand aimed at the man's temple. His stance was so calm, casual, as if he wasn't about to shoot the man.

And Bruce was sure Dick would shoot. He knew that look in his eldest's eyes. He was serious.

Damian tutted. "I thought you said there are fates worse than death?" he asked casually, nonchalantly.

Dick tilted his head to the side, as if contemplating Damian's words, before lowering his hand, a smile on his lips. "You're right."

And just like that, Dick would calm down.

* * *

**Perfect**

Damian would not say his life was perfect, because it wasn't. Far from it. That being said, it wasn't that he didn't enjoy his life. Because he did. Every second of it. And he would not have it any other way.

* * *

**Threat**

The first time Damian was brought to the Watchtower, Dick had taken him to the cafeteria, and introduced him to the other heroes.

"Meet Robin, Batman's partner, my precious baby brother," he had said, with his usual cheery smile on his face. Then his voice had turned deeper, his face a shade darker, his eyes glinting with something akin to a threat. "Play nice, will you?"

Beside him, Bruce was rolling his eyes. "You might as well say 'touch him and die.'"

Dick just grinned. "Despite popular belief, I actually know some tact."

"Of course," Bruce answered sarcastically, noting how Dick didn't even try to deny his accusation.

* * *

**I Love You**

Dick with the words "I love you" was like Santa with gifts on Christmas: he would give them to anyone, whether they wanted them or not, and whether they believed him or not.

* * *

"**Bring Your Parents" Day**

Sitting on his bed, Damian stared at the paper in his hand. He was supposed to give it to Dick, or better yet, his father. It was an invitation for the so called "Bring Your Parents" Day. Last year, it was Dick who attended. And it was good, great even. But he had hoped his father would come this year.

But his father was busy.

As Bruce Wayne during the day, he had an important deal to make. As the Batman that night, he had the Two Face to capture.

Damian closed his eyes briefly, suppressing his urge to sigh.

_It's not all that important anyway,_ he thought. Now, if only he could convince himself of that fact. He sighed, balling the paper in his hand before throwing it carelessly into the waste basket.

It didn't matter. He still wouldn't tell his father. He didn't know how.

* * *

**Protective Mother Hen**

Bruce really didn't know what to expect when he found Dick in his room, hand on his chin, foot tapping, inspecting the colorful semi formal shirts laid on his bed. Then as if sensing his presence, Dick turned around to look at him, eyes narrowing, brows knitting before, seeming to reach a decision, his face relaxed as he nodded to himself. Bruce merely raised his eyebrows at his eldest's curious action. He watched as Dick took the navy blue shirt and a pair of black pants and threw them at him.

Bruce caught them easily. "You do realize I have a meeting today, right?" he asked.

"You're not going," Dick answered promptly.

"Why not?"

"Because you're going here," Dick said, shoving a paper – it was crinkled, as if it had been crumpled before someone tried to straighten it out – into his hands. Bruce scanned the content, the frown on his face deepening as he read. The protest was on his tongue when Dick said, "Don't worry, I'll secure that deal for you _and_ bring that damned Scarred Faceto Arkham."

Bruce clamped his mouth shut. But he wasn't about to shut up. "It _is_ Two Face," he pointed out.

Dick rolled his eyes. "And I've only fought him, what, a million times when I wore your cowl?" he retorted sarcastically.

Dick had a point. But Bruce was not done. "He will want you instead."

Dick's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You really don't know him, do you?" he asked, his voice a soft growl.

It was a rhetorical question, so Bruce didn't bother to come up with an answer. Dick threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm his guardian, but you, _you_ are his father. Of course he wants you there!" he emphasized his words with an angry poke to Bruce's chest. "More than he does me," he added sulkily.

Bruce frowned. He knew Dick was emotional but he rarely saw his son get this worked up. "Why are you angry?"

"I'm not!" Dick snapped, which only served to confirm Bruce's assumption.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as if saying _you just proved my point_. Then his eyes widened as a thought struck him. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Of course not," Dick answered sarcastically before he stomped – there really was no other word to describe it – his way to the door. He looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Except his tantrum was a force to be reckoned with. Bruce almost pitied Two Face for his untimely escape. Almost.

Dick stopped at the door, head cocked to the side, as if he had just remembered something. "If you screw this up, I'm so gonna kick your ass," he said over his shoulder. That said, he left.

At times, Bruce saw the glimpse of the Dark Knight in Dick.

This was one of those times.

He sighed, hoping he would not, for everyone's sake, mess this up.

* * *

**Mistake**

Even if Bruce had agreed to come to Damian's school – he had no other choice really – he was still convinced that between himself and Dick, Damian surely would want Dick to come. So he was surprised to see how Damian's face lit up when he saw him, lips twitching as if he tried to not smile.

Huh. So, Damian _did _want him.

* * *

**Hereditary**

When Damian had claimed him, the spitting image of what Bruce had done years ago, Dick was sure that possessiveness was hereditary.

* * *

**Effect**

When Damian was around Dick, he was more relaxed, his posture was less tense, his expression was more friendly, if only slightly, and his guard wasn't up as high. Consciously or not, he knew nothing bad would happen to him when he had his big brother with him.

Contrarily, Dick was more guarded when he was with Damian. He still wore his trademark grin, but he stood straighter, his eyes sharper, ready to fight anyone, _anything_ he deemed as a threat to his little brother. He seemed to exude a protectiveness that said, "Mess with my brother and I'll kill you."

* * *

**Bait**

"So, you restarted your bad habit of being abducted because you no longer wear the cowl?"

"I wasn't abducted, Damian."

"Then tell me how you came to be in that bastard's hideout, gagged _and_ tied to a chair?"

A sigh. "I was the bait."

Dead silence.

"I'm going to talk to father."

They both knew Damian was not going to just talk.

* * *

**Burden**

Damian sat on the single cot in the corner of the Batcave that was dubbed the Infirmary. Dick was kneeling in front of him, one hand on his little brother's cheek. "Listen, Dami, when you're outnumbered and overwhelmed, call for help, okay?"

"They were just goons, stupid good-for-nothing goons," Damian defended. "I could handle them alone. I did, didn't I?"

"I know," Dick said patiently. "But you don't have to do everything by yourself. Especially not if it puts your safety on the line."

Arms crossed across his chest, Damian tried to look away, but Dick's firm hold on his cheek prevented him. "I don't want to be a liability," he admitted quietly, reluctantly meeting Dick's gaze, "I don't want to be a burden. To you, or to father."

"And you're not," Dick reassured softly. "Never were, never will be."

"Really?" Damian asked in childish wonder.

Dick smiled as he stood up and ruffled his little brother's hair. "Really."

* * *

**Nickname**

Dick's nickname for Jason was Jay and it was Timmy for Tim.

Dick's nicknames for Damian, amongst others, were Dami, Baby Bird, Kiddo, Squirt and of course, the famous Little D.

* * *

**Favorite**

Sometimes Bruce thought that despite Dick insisting otherwise, his first son had a favorite amongst his brothers: Bruce's youngest son and Dick's baby brother, Damian.

Later on, he would realize that he was wrong. It was not that Dick favored Damian more than his two other brothers, it was just when it came to Damian, Dick's perspective of brother and son was blurred.

* * *

**Replacement**

Once Bruce realized that Dick saw Damian not only as his brother, but at times also his son, he was worried that _his_ role as a father would be threatened.

"Do not worry," Alfred reassured him. "Master Dick does hold an important role in Young Master Damian's life, but it isn't that of a father."

Bruce believed him, though he didn't exactly understand what Alfred meant.

Then Mother's Day came around.

* * *

**Mother's Day Card**

Dick took it from Damian, who just shrugged, saying that it was a class project.

"Mother won't accept it, it's pointless," Damian explained in that matter-of-fact way of his. "You're the closest thing to a mother I have, so..."

Dick truly didn't know if he ought to feel insulted or honored at Damian's confession. He only needed to take one look at Damian's expectant, hopeful face for any anger to evaporate, replaced by a surge of pride and affection.

"Thanks, Little D," he grinned at his little brother, ruffling his hair. For once, Damian didn't swat his hand away; he just ducked bashfully instead.

* * *

**Dickienese**

Just as Dick was fluent in speaking Damianese, so was Damian in Dickienese – the mysterious language of one Richard "Dick" Grayson-Wayne.

A smile with a mischievous gleam in his eyes meant that inspiration for a new prank had just hit.

A wide Cheshire grin meant that the new prank would be particularly nasty to his victims.

A gleeful giggle meant that whatever idea he had was being put into motion.

A full-blown evil villainous cackle meant that anyone in the vicinity should evacuate immediately.

So when Dick's smile turned into a grin before he started giggling and then cackling, Damian knew he had to dive for cover.

* * *

**Contagious**

When Bruce found all of his Batman suits to have been dyed in a myriad of colors – electric blue, neon green, canary yellow, shocking pink, sunset orange, you name it – while Dick was away on a business trip, he knew that mischief was contagious.

* * *

**First of April/Prankster**

It was the first of April. And Bruce had been extremely cautious all morning, anticipating any kind of prank Dick might pull. Sure, his oldest son had matured over the last year, doing fewer pranks against his family than he used to, but still… It never hurt to be prepared. Dick's motto was "strike when they least expect it" after all.

And strike the prankster did.

"You have my blessing," Damian said solemnly, looking Bruce and Dick in the eye.

Bruce looked up from the newspaper he was reading as Dick asked. "Blessing for what, Dami?"

"Your wedding," Damian deadpanned.

And Dick choked on his coffee.

Bruce merely raised an eyebrow questioningly, too used to Dick's pranks to be fazed. "Did you set up a wedding?" he asked simply.

"No!" was Dick's immediate reply as he scowled. Frowning slightly, he drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "It's a good idea though," he commented, grinning.

Bruce rolled his eyes at that. Leave it to Dick to look for ideas for new pranks anytime, anywhere.

"Wait, what day is today?" Dick asked, turning to look at Damian with suspicion in his eyes.

Damian smirked. "According to you, the best holiday ever," he answered calmly, though Bruce was sure he could hear a trace of smugness in there.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Damian.

Bruce facepalmed. _Great. Another prankster in the family. As if one is not enough._

* * *

**Order**

"Stay, Dami?"

Damian narrowed his eyes. "Is that an order, Grayson? Because you know you no longer have authority over me." Arms crossed across his chest, Damian glared challengingly at Dick, as if daring him to say otherwise.

"Of course not," Dick conceded. "It's just a request from me as a brother," he said softly. "I don't like it when you go out there alone, without backup."

"I don't need a babysitter," Damian huffed. "I can take care of myself just fine."

"I know. But you know I'll still worry."

"You're such a worrywart." Damian rolled his eyes. Even so, Bruce could tell that his youngest son was ready to do as Dick asked.

It never ceased to amaze him how his eldest could be so damn good at manipulating people, even while still sounding so sincere.

* * *

**Attention**

It didn't take long for Damian to notice that his oldest brother's presence in a room demanded attention as much as his father's did. The only difference was the kind of attention he attracted.

As the Batman, his father's presence demanded fear-induced respect, and as the playboy extraordinaire, it was awed respect. People stood straighter, held their heads higher, around him. While his brother just as easily turned heads when he came in, the attention given to him was somehow friendlier, warmer. The kind that made people relax and accept Dick readily into their midst.

Damian wondered if he had that kind of effect when he entered a room. And if he did, what kind of attention did he get? What kind of attention did he _want_ to get?

* * *

**Watchful**

Bruce watched as his youngest son entered the Ball Room, eyes never straying from the figure of his oldest, mesmerized by the older boy's seemingly effortless way of blending in. And, though Dick was being more subtle about it, Bruce knew his first son was also keeping an eye on Damian.

* * *

**Home**

According to the Oxford Dictionary, "home" is a place where you live, most often with your family. To Damian, there was only one word to describe his: Dick.

* * *

**Reaction**

Damian was not surprised when he found out that his father didn't trust him. His father didn't know him all that well after all. And with his upbringing, it was only normal not to (though he remembered how easy it was for Dick to trust him; he blamed it on the man's strangeness).

Even so…

_It would be nice if he did._

* * *

**Role Reversal**

What Damian had not expected was Dick's strong reaction; how angry his brother was. And even if he knew he should not, he couldn't help but feeling… touched. Defending him against his mother was one thing, defending him against his father – Dick's _own_ mentor and father figure – was another altogether.

"You're angry at father?" Damian asked.

Dick scowled. And wasn't that strange? To see such fierce anger on his brother's face. "He should've trusted you."

"He doesn't know me," Damian pointed out calmly. _Not as well as you do anyway._

"You're his son!" Dick argued.

Damian shrugged, the irony of the condition didn't escape him. Wasn't it _his _role to argue stubbornly, sometimes not-so-logically, while Dick calmed him down? "Doesn't mean I automatically have his trust," he said. When Dick still had that uncharacteristic scowl on his face, he added, "You didn't trust me right away either. Did you?" he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, simply a determination to prove a point.

Dick sighed, his scowl vanishing. "… No. You earned it," he answered, sounding resigned as he ran a hand through his hair in mild frustration.

"Guess I have to do the same with father."

"You're okay with that?" Dick asked after a moment of pause. His voice was soft as he stared Damian right in the eye.

_And isn't that the core of the problem?_ Damian mused. He knew his guardian well enough to know that his anger tended to stem from worry. He was silent, contemplating his answer before settling for a question. "Do you trust me?"

"Is there any doubt I don't?" Dick asked back.

Damian remembered the times – lots of them – when Dick turned his back to him, trusting him to watch his back. The answer was clear. "No."

A pause.

"I'll be fine," Damian said eventually. His voice was quiet, yet firm - determined. "Just as I gained your trust, I'll get father's."

Dick stared at Damian, as if gauging if Damian was telling the truth or not. Then he smiled, satisfied with whatever it was that he found. "Aw," he cooed, "My baby's all mature and grown up now." He sniffed, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye dramatically.

Damian's eye twitched. "Not your baby!"

* * *

**A Benefit of Doubt**

"How can you trust him?" Bruce asked, not understanding the implicit trust his eldest son had for the kid. Talia's kid. His.

"He's your son," Dick answered simply. As if it were obvious.

"Exactly. Talia and me. There's nothing good that can come out of us."

"Bruce, if you insult my dad one more time, I swear I'll kick you," Dick said half-jokingly.

Bruce frowned. "What? I didn't—" he protested, only to be cut off by Dick.

"I _will _kick you," Dick emphasized his words with a glare in the older man's direction, "where it hurts the most."

Bruce blinked. "You spend too much time with…" he hesitated, if only for a second, "Damian."

Dick rolled his eyes, chuckling dryly. "Tell me about it."

Bruce didn't answer, merely hummed thoughtfully. A companionable silence fell between them.

"I'm serious though, Bruce," Dick said softly, looking his former mentor in the eye. "Give him a chance. He deserves that much." When he got nothing but silence, he sighed. "Just remember, I worked with him for a year, and here I am. Alive and kicking."

* * *

**Messenger**

Bruce and Damian were fighting and they refused to even be in the same room. Which meant Dick was stuck being their messenger. And translator. And mediator.

_Damn. I should ask for a raise._ He thought before reminding himself that he wasn't being paid for this. Sometimes he wondered how Alfred could stay with them for so long without going mad. Or asking for a raise. _How much does Alfred get paid, anyway?_

With a sigh, Dick went into Damian's room and sat beside his little brother on his bed. "Bruce said that you shouldn't have disobeyed a direct order like that," he said, rewording Bruce's rant. "He was worried," he added, knowing the meaning behind Bruce's harsh words.

Damian crossed his arms. "I can take care of myself," he said, huffing.

Suppressing another sigh, Dick stood up and went in the direction of Bruce's study. He went in without knocking. "Damian said that he can take care of himself, and that's _exactly_ what he said," he told Bruce, who was sitting on his chair, before he could be accused of paraphrasing. "Which means that he wants you to trust him more. I _did_ train him, you know."

"I know, but orders are orders. He should obey them."

Dick rolled his eyes before going back to Damian's room, which thankfully wasn't that far down the hall. "He does know better, you know. Plus he's a little bit of a control freak, so it would be best if you just follow his orders," Dick said, not bothering to sit down this time. "Oh, and he knows you can take care of yourself, but he still worries."

Damian snorted. "Please, I don't need a babysitter." He looked away, but Dick could see the faint pink tainting his cheeks.

With a wide grin on his face, Dick went to Bruce's study. "Bruce, the kid said he'll make an effort to follow orders from now on, but he still wants you to trust him more."

Bruce frowned before nodding. "Fair enough."

And Dick felt like pumping his fist in the air. Finally.

* * *

**Bonding**

Bruce and Damian were fighting. Again.

And this time, Dick wasn't in the mood to play moderator. So he took the second best action.

One hand on Bruce's wrist, the other on Damian's, Dick dragged both of them to a random wing of the Manor that was rarely used.

Damian's indignant command of "Unhand me!" went ignored. Bruce merely sighed. Knowing there was nothing he could do when Dick was being stubborn, he allowed himself to be led by his eldest.

"I won't let you two out until you resolve your problem _and _bond, at least a little," was all Dick said before he pushed Bruce and then Damian into one of the Manor's numerous spare rooms.

"What—" Damian's surprised exclamation was cut off as Dick slammed the door right in his face. He cursed vehemently. His cursing turned up a notch when he heard the ominous sound of a lock sliding into place. He tried the doorknob anyway. When it only rattled instead of swinging open, he gave the wooden door a swift kick. Then he turned around, planning to read a book, watch TV, _anything_ but talk to his father, when he noticed that the room was _completely_ bare save for his frowning companion.

And he screamed. Faintly, he heard Dick chuckle behind the door. With a huff, he settled on the floor close to the window. That way, at least he could pretend to be occupied with the view. He ignored his father when he sat beside him.

"Dick can be quite annoying, can't he?" Bruce said.

Damian snorted, though he had yet to look in his father's direction. "Quite is an understatement, try very."

Bruce chuckled slightly at that. "And you've only lived with him for, what, a year?"

That piqued Damian's interest. His father had lived with the guy for years after all. "How do you do it?" he asked, looking at Bruce, head tilted to the side curiously.

"I've had practice," Bruce answered. "Payback helps." He grinned. "So, you interested?"

Damian raised his eyebrows at that. "I knew he got those not-so-innocent quirks from somewhere," he muttered under his breath, more to himself, which earned him a chuckle. Then he looked at Bruce, and with a grin – not unlike Dick's own – on his lips, he asked, "So, what's the plan, father?"

* * *

**Payback**

Somehow, Dick wasn't surprised that the first thing Bruce and Damian did to "bond" was to paint his bike bright pink.

_Damn. Payback's a bitch._

Not that he planned to sit idly by and do nothing. If Bruce and Damian wanted to start a prank war, who was he to refuse?

"Challenge accepted." He punched the palm of his hand, grinning widely.

* * *

**Remember**

Bruce woke up to the shrill frustrated scream of his youngest son. He joined in when he found that somehow his skin had turned orange.

Now he remembered why he never wanted to get in Dick's pranking way.

* * *

**Death**

When Dick said, "I'd die for you," with that gentle smile of his on his lips, Damian answered in a low growl, "Do that and I _will_ bring you back _and_ kill you again!"

* * *

**Untamable**

Damian was untamable to everyone. Not even Bruce, his own father, could persuade the kid to do something when he didn't want to.

Dick was an exception though.

He only needed two words – "For me?" — combined with his practiced pleading look and Damian would do anything he asked. Though he _would_ grumble about it; after all he had an image to maintain.

* * *

**Easy**

Bruce was never one to feel envious. He might not have everything he wanted – like his parents alive – but he had all he needed – namely, his children. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, that jealousy rose, seeping into his heart.

Like now.

They had just finished patrolling, and, as always, Dick was messing with Damian's head; pulling him in to give him a noogie, pinching his cheek, flicking his forehead, teasing him, joking with him…

Dick made it look so easy, bonding with Damian.

As if all he had to do was to reach out and…

Huh. Who knew his kid's hair could be so… soft. With how spiky it looked, he had thought it would be all hard-edged, just like Damian himself. He was wrong. It was a pleasant surprise.

And Damian's cheek… The kid still had baby fat in there, huh? Cute.

Without saying anything, Bruce walked away, a faint satisfied smile on his face, leaving his two sons gaping in disbelief.

* * *

**Always Ready**

Damian blinked once the shock had worn off. "Did he just… ruffle my hair and…" another disbelieving blink, "… pinch my cheek?" he asked, the slightest hint of hysteria in his voice. He turned to look at Dick, a mix of skepticism and careful hope on his face.

"He's warming up to you, kid," Dick answered, grinning widely. "Congrats!" He ruffled Damian's hair affectionately.

Naturally, Damian swatted Dick's hand away, though he couldn't quite hide the pleased smile on his lips. His eyes narrowed dangerously when he noticed the camera in his brother's hand. "What the hell did you do with _that_?" he pointed at the camera, a note of disgust coloring his voice.

Dick simply grinned. "Always be prepared Dami, you never know when Kodak moments will happen."

"Blackmail material, you mean," Damian growled, making a move to snatch the camera away.

But Dick pulled it over his head, away from his little brother. "Don't worry, Little D, I'll give you a copy," he said in sing-song tone.

* * *

**Well Done**

It was after dinner when it happened. As was his habit, Dick was making small talk – asking how school was for Damian, or work for Bruce – trying to make his family bond.

"I heard you got praise for your Art assignment?"

Damian rolled his eyes, not surprised anymore when Dick seemed to know things he never told him. Dick was nosy that way. "Honestly Grayson, you should stop spying on me through Colin."

"So, you prefer I install hidden cameras in your school instead?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone of voice was casual enough, as if he was joking, making Damian want to dare him. But he knew better. Dick was crazy enough to install those cameras for real.

"So," Dick prompted again when Damian said nothing, "Art assignment?"

"It's nothing—"

"What did you make?"

The rest of Damian's words were cut off as he turned to look at the person who voiced the question: his father. He was used to dealing with Dick being a nosy brother– "Not nosy, _caring_," Dick would say – but he didn't know what to expect from his father. Was he mocking him with his question? Or was he genuinely interested?

Damian couldn't tell. So he stayed silent.

"A drawing." It was Dick who finally answered. "Of the Manor," he said, giving his phone to the older man as he smiled gently at Damian.

For a moment, there was only silence as his father looked at the photo.

Damian suppressed his urge to fidget. He could still remember clearly what he had drawn. It was Wayne Manor. It was snowing. Bluish grey snowflakes fell from the dark sky, blanketing the Manor in gloom. The Manor itself was dark, empty, as if it had been abandoned for some time with no lamps lit. Except one. The Master Bedroom.

_A beacon to call the wanderers back home,_ he had thought.

"It's beautiful," his father finally said. And Damian breathed a sigh of relief, not even realizing he had been holding his breath. Then his father turned to smile at him. It was small, but undoubtedly there. "Well done, son."

And Damian froze. Did his father just call him…?

He looked at Dick, frantic, asking what he should do. Dick rolled his eyes before smiling, encouragingly, at him. And he turned towards his father, unsure but hopeful…

"Thank you, father."

* * *

**Sorry for the late update, there was holiday season (Independence Day followed by Eid ul Fitr) then I got new ideas but it took _ages_ to write them down. But look at the bright side, this chapter is almost twice as long as the chapters before. And look, the status is not complete yet. Which means... drum roll please... I have another chapter for this!**

**Okay, sorry for the randomness. Or maybe not. See you! ;p**


	4. Siblings

**Thanks to: **As always, **anakinlove** and especially **B****ookJunkie**, who worked very hard to polish this one to be this good. :)

**Warning:** more trolling ahead. :) For you who are interested, excuses at the bottom. :)

* * *

**PART IV**

**Teamwork**

The only time Bruce had seen his three younger sons work perfectly as a team was when they agreed that Dick had to break up with his current girlfriend.

**Usually**

Bruce's youngest three sons didn't get along. This was a fact.

Usually, the boys would try their best to annoy (Jason), ignore (Tim), or kill each other (Damian).

In other words, when the three got together without Dick to play referee, all hell would break loose.

Usually.

But apparently today was not just any other Saturday.

Because Jason, Tim, and Damian were _in the same room_ **and** NOT trying to kill one another. Yet. But Bruce still had hope.

In fact, the three of them seemed to be having some sort of _civil_ conversation!

Later on, Bruce would find that they were planning how they would sabotage Dick's date – the third one with the same girl. Apparently his three sons saw this girl as a growing threat that had to be annihilated as soon as possible.

* * *

**Stubbornness**

They may not all share the same blood, but if there _was_ a distinguishing batfamily trait, itwas their stubbornness. Surprisingly, it was not Bruce who held the 'most stubborn' title, but Dick. His stubborn want – _need_, the acrobat said – to unite all of their family was astounding to say the least. Most of the time Jason found it annoying. There was a reason why their family was described as dysfunctional, after all. At other, much rarer times, though, he was just glad his oldest brother was too stubborn to give up on him.

* * *

**Fun**

Damian did not think he understood Todd. The man was strange, even if not at the same level as Dick. Unlike Drake, Todd did not mind the fact that Damian used to be an assassin. In fact, he seemed to be overjoyed. Damian asked him about it, once.

"A normal brother?" Jason had echoed Damian's words, snorting derisively. "Where's the _fun_ in that?"

* * *

**Invitation**

Jason was used to coming home to an empty apartment.

He was used to finding Dick, or sometimes Bruce, invading his home for idle chit-chat (Dick) or to lecture him (Bruce).

Hell, he was used to finding an assassin or two ready to kill him.

But to find the _Demon Brat_… Sitting on _his_ armchair, legs drawn close to his chest, looking like he was right at home…

Well, technically, the boy _was_ an assassin. But the bat-brat probably didn't come to kill Jason. Tonight. Or so he hoped. He'd just started to get along with the kid; it would be a real shame if he had to… dispose of the boy now.

In the end, he decided that being direct would be the best way to approach the situation.

"What the hell are you doing here, brat?" he asked. "And please tell me that you didn't bring the mother hen with you."

"Grayson's in the Manor," the kid answered.

"And he doesn't know you're here?" Jason pushed. At the boy's slightly guilty look, he groaned. "Great, he'll come barging in soon enough, then."

The Brat looked indecisive for a second, before his jaws clenched, set in determination. "Then we better talk fast."

"What do you want to talk about?" Jason asked nonchalantly as he took a seat on the couch, arms spread over the back of it.

"If I kill the Joker, will you come back?" the Brat asked, brutally blunt as he stared Jason right in the eye.

Jason was glad that he was already sitting down. He wasn't sure he could have remained standing otherwise. He blinked, letting his brain soak up the meaning of the boy's words and came up with, "… What?"

"If I kill the Joker, will you come back?" the Brat repeated his question annoyingly calmly, gaze never straying from Jason's face.

Jason didn't know how to answer that, so he took to teasing the kid in order to stall. "Oh," he mock-cooed, "So, you _do_ care." He flung his hand to his chest dramatically. "I'm touched!" he said sarcastically. He was hoping the kid would take his bait. But of course he wouldn't be Demon Brat from Hell if he was that stupid.

"Grayson misses you," was the Brat's nonchalant answer as he shrugged.

Jason sighed, mentally cursing the boy for being so calm and too damn _perceptive _for his own good. He cursed Dick too, for good measure and because, well really, he was the one who was raising the Brat, after all. "In case you haven't noticed, kid, Robin doesn't kill."

"But _I _do," the Brat countered smoothly. "Raised as an assassin, remember?" Jason sighed once again as he kneaded his temple, trying to stem the headache he could already feel coming. "So, what do you say?" he asked when Jason kept silent.

"Bruce and Dick will hate you for that, you know," Jason said, in turn looking the kid right in the eye.

"Dick will understand," the boy said, though Jason could see the uncertainty in his gray-blue eyes.

"But your father won't," Jason deadpanned.

The kid shrugged helplessly. "You can't please everyone."

"Are you saying you're choosing me over your father?"

Another helpless shrug.

A pause. Then…

"No," Jason said.

Damian blinked. "'No'?" he echoed incredulously.

"No," Jason repeated, firmer this time as he shook his head.

"Why not?" Damian demanded.

"Just because," Jason answered, rolling his eyes. "Stop asking stupid questions, Brat. God, you're turning into Dick."

"I take that as a compliment," Damian was quick to retort.

"It wasn't meant to be," Jason grinned. He'd started to have hope that he could simply change the subject when Damian asked, "Will you come back anyway?"

Jason groaned. "No." He glared. "What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

"I simply don't take 'no' for an answer," came the smartass reply.

"Anyone ever told you how annoyingly stubborn you are?"

Damian smirked. "Numerous times," he answered without missing a beat. "So, will you at least visit sometimes?"

Jason pushed the heel of his hand into his temple. "If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?"

"Is that a yes?" Damian asked back.

"You little…" Jason cursed. Damian was unfazed. He simply waited patiently for Jason's answer, his yes. "Yes!" Jason snapped. "Yes, alright? I'll visit sometimes. There! Happy?" he growled, glaring at his younger brother.

"Very," Damian answered sweetly, grinning at Jason.

"Off you go," Jason said, making a shooing move with his hand, "before that mother hen of yours comes looking for you."

"I'll hold you to your words… Jayjay."

With that said, Damian was gone.

Jason looked at his window, at the gently swaying curtains, the only sign that Damian had ever been there. He muttered, "Brat, you're spending too much time with Dick. _Way_ too much time."

* * *

**Afraid**

Before he met Dick, Damian feared nothing, not even death. But once he got to know Dick, he learned that there were many things he was afraid of; amongst others: disappointing father, failing Dick, getting Dick hurt, getting Dick killed…

And now, as he watched Dick try to bridge the gap between himself and Drake, to mend their damaged relationship, Damian found a new fear: being replaced.

**Vice Versa**

"You remember when you said I'm stuck with you, Baby Bird?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"You know what, it works both ways. Just like I'm stuck with you, you're stuck with me. I won't leave you."

"Oh. That's… good."

"So, don't worry, okay?"

"Who says I'm worried?"

* * *

**Mistake**

To Damian, most of Dick's opinions were ridiculous, while the rest were just plain stupid. But that didn't mean he was not right. Because he was. In fact, Damian was quite sure that his oldest brother was almost always right.

Almost.

There was one time when Dick was wrong.

He said that it was a big brother's duty to watch over his little brothers.

Well, Damian had to disagree with Dick on that one. He believed all brothers should watch over one another.

* * *

**Declaration**

"I don't hate you," Damian said.

"Right," Tim answered sarcastically. "That's why you've been trying to kill me for what, months?" he deadpanned, crossing his arms across his chest.

Damian was unfazed. "You were a threat," he explained eerily calmly. "And just like any other threat, you needed to be eliminated."

Tim was silent. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he understood what the younger boy was talking about. Damian saw him as a threat to his position as Robin. "You're Robin now. No one will replace you," he said. Try as he might, he couldn't completely hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. "Not anytime soon anyway."

"I know." Again with that annoyingly matter-of-fact tone.

"Then why—"

"You hurt him."

With that said, Damian was gone.

Tim stood there, teeth gritted, hands balled at his side. He already knew that. He didn't need Damian to remind him of that.

**Peace Offering**

Tim was smart.

He knew that Damian had been obsessing with making a de-aging serum ever since that time he'd been turned into an adult. As far as he knew, the 'kid' was still stuck.

So he offered his help.

"Why?" Damian asked, gray-blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It's my way of apologizing," Tim said. _To Dick_ was left unsaid.

Damian heard it anyway. "You know what I'm going to do with the serum, correct?"

Tim nodded.

"Yet, you still want to help?" By this time, Damian's suspicion was starting to fade, replaced by bewilderment.

Another nod. "Told you, I want to apologize."

"By helping me to shrink him into a child?" Damian asked, unable to hide his incredulity.

Tim shrugged, smiling sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck. "Eh, stranger things have happened."

Damian nodded, accepting the answer. "Even if we can make it, how do we get him to ingest it?" he asked.

"Leave that to the professional." Tim's grin was positively evil as he said that.

Damian frowned. "'Professional'?" he echoed, confused.

Tim flipped his phone open, scrolled down his phonebook until he came to the name he was looking for. He showed it to Damian.

Written on the screen: Jason.

Damian's frown deepened. "Jason? Jason Todd? As in _the Red Hood_?"

"No, as in the Big Bad Wolf," was Tim's sarcastic answer, which Damian ignored.

"What makes you think he'll help us?"

"Let's just say I know how to… persuade him," Tim grinned, before he pushed the call button and put it on speaker.

Jason answered on the second ring.

"_Listen, Replace—"_

"Before you say anything, Jason," Tim was quick to cut off the older man. "_Blackmail _material on_ Dick_. Lots of it."

A deafening silence on Jason's end. It lasted for only two seconds. Then…

"_I'm in,"_ Jason answered. His usually rough voice sounded lighter with excitement. _"Whatever you're planning, I'm in."_

"Sure," Tim said. "I'll call you again with the details." With that said, he hung up. He turned to look at Damian. The kid looked stunned. Tim grinned smugly.

"You…" Damian said, sounding speechless, the slightest bit of awe on his face. "… are a bastard."

Tim only laughed at that. "If you haven't noticed, Baby Bird, it runs in the family."

**Pandemonium**

Bruce had expected Chaos – with a capital C – the moment he saw a three year old boy looking too much like Dick for his comfort running around the Manor.

He was wrong. It wasn't Chaos, it was _Pandemonium_. Capital _P_.

It was only breakfast, and yet his sons had already made so much trouble.

He could only let out a long-suffering sigh as he watched his sons quarrel.

"You don't want your dessert, Shorty?" Jason asked even as he swept up Dick's pudding, not even bothering to wait for an answer.

"Jason!" Dick protested, hands reaching out towards Jason to take his dessert back. But his arms were too short, and the fact that Jason held the bowl over his head didn't help the matter, either. "Gimme back my pudding!" he demanded childishly.

"Why don't you make me?" Jason asked just as childishly, sticking his tongue out at Dick.

Dick crossed his arms, because his feet were too short for him to stomp the ground while he was sitting.

"Here." Damian pushed a bowl of pudding in Dick's direction.

"Hey!" came Tim's protest. "Give him your own dessert!" he said as he tried to snatch Damian's.

"Keep your filthy hands to yourself, Drake," Damian growled, pulling his bowl of pudding closer to himself protectively.

Meanwhile, Dick was eyeing the platters full of food in front of him, before his face cracked in a wide grin.

"Don't even think about it," Bruce warned, looking sternly at his technically oldest son over the rim of his mug.

Dick put on his most innocent face. "Think about what, Bruce?"

Bruce glared. Dick pouted, though he let his hands fall to his side.

Just when Bruce was mentally patting himself on the back for avoiding a food fight, Jason goaded Dick, who of course had to retaliate by throwing a… Bruce narrowed his eyes, was that a_ batarang?_ How the hell had Dick gotten his hands on one?

Jason snatched the butter knife on the table and threw it to deflect Dick's projectile. It ricocheted, naturally, towards Damian, who was still arguing with Tim thus not noticing the danger he was in. Fortunately, though, Tim did and he pushed his younger brother away, the knife whizzing past Damian only inches away from his cheek.

"Watch it!" Tim snapped towards his older brothers, who chorused a "Sorry!" without sounding remorseful at all.

Instead of thanking Tim, like any normal person would, Damian swatted Tim's hand away, snarling, "I don't need your help!"

"You're welcome, Brat!" was Tim's sarcastic response.

And while the younger boys were arguing Dick was busy chasing Jason, who was now running in the direction of the kitchen, taunting his brother all the way. After they had been in the kitchen for not even a minute, Bruce could hear the sounds of porcelain breaking, spoons, forks and other silverware clattering, something splattering on the floor, and, of course, Dick's laughter and Jason's muffled curses.

He kneaded his temple in a feeble attempt to soothe the headache building behind his eyes. Shouldn't Dick turning into a child trigger something like… brotherly protectiveness or whatever in his other sons? Something that made them softer, or something?

He was snapped out of that particular train of thought as Dick came running back into the dining room, laughing obnoxiously, Jason hot on his heels.

_That _is_ Jason, right?_ Bruce thought as he took a better look at the young man who vaguely resembled his second son covered in flour and God knew what else stuck in clumps here and there by… egg yolk? He didn't want to think how Dick could get his hands on those either, when he couldn't even reach the fridge handle.

"Come back here, you little rascal!" Jason roared, waving a _spatula – _Bruce took a double take at that. _Huh. Never thought a spatula could look that dangerous._ – threateningly in Dick's direction.

Dick stuck his tongue out over his shoulder in response. His squeal was high-pitched with fear or delight, Bruce couldn't decide, when Jason caught him. Dick squirmed but Jason's hold on him was firm.

"Gotcha!" The glint in Jason's eyes was positively evil as he cackled loudly.

Noticing the predicament Dick was in, Damian abandoned his fight with Tim and came to Dick's rescue. "Todd! You better not harm my little brother!" he yelled.

"Who are you calling your little brother, Dami?" Dick protested indignantly, still struggling in Jason's grasp, getting in a good kick to Jason's face and making the younger man crinkle his nose. Bruce suspected it had more to do with smelly feet than Jason actually getting hurt.

"Come back here, Brat! I'm not done with you!" Tim yelled in rage before joining the fray.

Bruce sighed at his four sons wrestling on the floor, tangled in a confusing mess of limbs. He was grumbling good-naturedly about wanting normal sons, all the while taking pictures – proof that the scene had actually happened.

**Chocolate, Candy, Ice Cream**

"I heard that you helped Damian with the de-aging serum, Tim?"

"Yes." A pause. "I figured you could use a break and, well, I… I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"The way I treated you."

"Tim—"

"Don't tell me it's okay, 'cause it's not. If Damian treated me like that, I'd so kick his ass."

"Tim, you don't have to…"

"Just, let me explain, okay?" A deep breath. "You might not remember, but I met you once, when I was little. You inspired me. You. Not Robin, not Nightwing, You, Dick. You were my hero. Still are. Then I met you and I couldn't be happier. But then Damian came and Bruce was gone and you… You took Damian as Robin… I felt like I was being replaced, like you didn't need me anymore."

"Tim, Damian didn't—"

"I know! Just, hear me out first, okay? So, Damian took Robin's mantle. That hurt. A lot. So I wanted to hurt you back. I know, stupid, huh? But I was just so angry, so disappointed, so… _hurt_… I… And for that, I'm sorry."

"Oh, Timmy…" Dick sounded troubled. "_I'm _sorry. I should've known."

"You shouldn't be. You couldn't have known."

"Of course I should have, it happened before. Jason, remember?"

"Still…" Tim shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

"Look, I'm sorry. For everything. I should've told you Damian wasn't your replacement."

"He's too special to be a replacement, right?" A trace of bitterness.

"I know this sounds corny, but trust me when I say you are all special in your own way."

A small smile. "Yeah, that's pretty corny."

"So, it's like this. I'm your brother, right?"

"Yes."

"And so is Jason, right?"

A reluctant nod. "I suppose. So?"

"So… Agh!" Dick ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Okay. Okay. So it's like this. You're candy," he said, earning an amused smile from Tim. "Damian's ice cream and Jason's chocolate, a dark chocolate, but chocolate nonetheless."

"Okay…" Tim nodded, unsure. He had no idea where Dick was going with this.

"And Bruce's coffee, like super black, and Alfie's cookies and Barb's…"

"Focus, Dick," Tim chided, though he had a fond smile on his lips.

"Oh, yeah. Where was I again?"

"Me candy, Damian ice cream and Jason dark chocolate."

"Right. So it's like this. I like coffee, cookies, chocolate and of course candy." This earned him another small fleeting smile from the younger man. "Later on, I find that I like ice cream too. But that doesn't mean I stop liking candy, right? Or chocolate for that matter."

Tim stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Then…

Something clicked in his brain and… "Oh." Blue eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. "Oh!"

Dick grinned, ruffling Tim's hair. "Yes. 'Oh', genius."

Tim swatted Dick's hand away, sticking his tongue out in an uncharacteristic display of childishness. Dick just laughed, shaking his head.

"But Dick, who's your favorite?"

A pause before a grin broke out on Dick's face. "You know I'm not picky about my food."

* * *

**(Prank) War**

It started simply enough with super glue on a few seats, tanning lotion in a bottle of body wash, hair dye in shampoo, and itching powder on bed sheets. Soon enough, though, it escalated into fart-like sounding klaxons and singing grapple guns. And before long, it had turned into a full-blown prank war where his sons were turning one another into kids and cats, where truth serums were put in drinks, and where female-pheromones were added to aftershave bottles.

**Truce**

When Bruce found himself with bright yellow hair, he knew that his four sons had agreed to come to a sort of truce. He didn't know if he ought to be grateful or not now that his sons had stopped pranking one another. Now, it seemed, they were targeting _him_.

Bruce sighed. "Why can't I have normal kids?" he wondered out loud. "You know, Alfred, ones less mischievous."

An amused smile on his lips and a knowing glint in his eyes, Alfred simply answered. "I believe your life would be less… colorful that way."

Bruce stared at his reflection, at his bright hair to be exact. "Less colorful indeed," he smiled ruefully.

**Worst**

Bruce thought that his sons having what he had called "Birdies Civil War" – in his head only, though he suspected Alfred somehow knew – was the worst.

Unsurprisingly, he was wrong.

His eye twitched as he went to his closet, looking for a new shirt, only to find that _all_ of his shirts had shrunk overnight _and _turned the brightest of colors – yellow, green, orange, _pink_.

His sons – because he was pretty sure there was more than one culprit– had gone on another crazy pranking spree. Only this time instead of pranking one another, they chose to gang up on him.

_Surely nothing can be worse than this._

**Note**

On one of his shirts was taped a note. It read:

_Really sorry, B. But it was either joining them on this or facing all of them._

_-D_

Complete with a smiley face at the end.

Bruce crumpled the note in his hand. Dick didn't sound sorry, not at all.

**End**

Bruce wasn't surprised when it was Alfred who stopped his sons' madness.

One disapproving look from Alfred and the four boys (because that was what they were, even if they all insisted otherwise) were staring down at their feet in shame. Dick was scruffing his foot on the carpet. Jason was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never been able to break. Tim was twiddling his fingers, peeking from behind his bangs at the grandfatherly butler every five seconds or so. Damian had his arms crossed, though Bruce could see the uneasiness in the way he stood.

They all wore the same guilty look on their faces.

"Sorry, Alfred," Dick said, speaking for his three younger brothers too. "It was… childish of us," he looked at Alfred with a sincerely apologetic look on his face.

Alfred kept his stern expression for a moment longer, before he nodded understandingly. "Just please, refrain from having anymore prank sprees," he said, chiding, "I'm getting too old for this."

"Of course," Dick agreed eagerly. "But, you know you're not too old for anything, Alf."

But even as Dick promised Alfred they'd never do it again, Bruce could see him cross his fingers behind his back.

* * *

**R-rated**

Jason had his handgun trained on the newest super villain wannabe, ready to kill him should the man make even the slightest suspicious movement. And through it all, Damian – flying solo for once, though how the kid could get away from Bruce _and_ Dick was a mystery to Jason – simply watched, gaze impassive, looking bored.

"You're not going to talk me out of killing this guy?" Jason asked, stealing a glance in the boy's direction.

Damian shrugged, not caring. "Will it work?" he asked back.

Jason thought about it for a moment. "Nah, most probably not," he answered truthfully.

"Then I won't bother," Damian said simply, body relaxing as he leaned on the wall.

Curious, Jason pushed the issue, a frown on his face. "You won't even try?" Damian shook his head. Jason's frown deepened. "And here I thought not killing is one of your codes."

"The Batman's, not mine," Damian was quick to rebut. "Personally, I've got nothing against killing people. Especially criminals."

Jason did not know which was more worrying: Damian's brutal honesty or the fact that the Brat's admittance unsettled him more than he was willing to admit.

"You going to shoot him?" Damian's question snapped Jason out of his thoughts.

Jason considered Damian's question for a moment before deciding to ask back, "Are you allowed to watch gory movies?"

Arms across his chest, Damian scowled. "They should've let me."

Which meant no, Damian could not.

And Jason found himself grinning widely. Over the years the rule of kids not being able to watch any R-rated movies had yet to change, it seemed. And if Bruce, Alfred, and, of course, Dick had tried so hard to shield Damian from any kind of violence – excluding patrolling – who was he to ruin their hard work?

With that thought in mind, he slipped his gun back into its holster. The criminal he was fighting might not be a complete fool, but he was certainly not on the same level as the Arkham Regulars. And with the Baby Bird here, there was no need to worry he would escape.

Damian seemed to be surprised by Jason's action, but he regained his composure soon enough. "Going soft, Hood?" he asked, a teasing grin on his lips.

Jason did not lose his composure, he simply grinned back and said, "Whatever you say, Brat. I'm just not foolish enough to invoke the wrath of the scariest mother hen on this side of the galaxy for corrupting his already-corrupted Baby Bird."

Damian scowled. Jason smirked triumphantly.

_Red Hood 1, Baby Bird 0._

"So you _are_ scared of 'Wing."

This time, it was Damian's turn to grin smugly, while Jason glared heatedly at him.

_Whose _brilliant_ idea was it to make Dick the brat's mentor?_

* * *

**Father's Day**

Bruce woke up with a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. And he knew it was _that_ time of the year. The one day when his sons went from being merely difficult to being entirely impossible to handle.

It was Father's Day!

After taking care of his routine – along with hiding as many weapons as possible on his person – he went towards the dining room.

He had expected to see a ruined room with an unconscious Alfred in one corner (because he knew Alfred would not let _anyone_ mess with the sacred dining room without a fight), but he was not prepared to see the sight that greeted him.

All of his sons were sitting at the table, chatting quietly as they waited for breakfast. He could only assume they were going over whatever devious plot they had planned this year, one last time. He just knew that all hell would break loose the moment his sons noticed his presence in the room. His muscles tensed in anticipation.

To his surprise, they simply greeted him as they would any other day. Dick merely waved at him, smiling at him along with Tim. Jason nodded curtly while Damian bade a formal greeting.

It baffled him, but it did not help with his anxiety. If anything it only made him more suspicious. It felt too much like the calm before the storm. And if his sons were _this_ calm, he was scared to imagine how bad the storm would be.

Throughout the day, he kept a close eye on his sons, ready for anything they might throw at him. But he was not prepared for the one thing they all did: they behaved themselves. They were so good, so nice, it was scary. Even _Damian_ never tried to kill – or even maim – anyone. He did not even _ask_. Bruce started to think the world was ending when he came to a relieving conclusion: these were _not _his sons. They just could not be.

"Who are you and where are my sons?" he demanded when he finally had had enough. He refused to be driven mad by their good behavior any longer.

Damian frowned, looking hurt. Dick pulled him into a hug, shooting a dirty look at Bruce. Bruce flinched inwardly, the last thing he needed was to invoke Dick's anger, but he refused to back down. This… this _tame_ being could not possibly be his youngest son. It was just _impossible_.

"We _are_ your sons," Dick's impostor said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Impossible! My sons are _never_ this well-behaved!"

"Are we _that_ bad?" the fake Jason asked Tim's impersonator, an amused smile on his face. Fake-Tim simply shrugged, looking just as amused.

"Give me back my unruly children!"

"Huh? Never thought Alfie could be wrong about this kind of thing," not-Dick murmured to himself, looking honestly dumbstruck. "And here I thought you would be happy if we, for once, acted nicely," he rolled his eyes. "Oh well, if that's what you want," he said, lips tugging up in a mischievous smile, eyes glinting as he exchanged glances with the younger boys – Bruce was sure those looks conveyed coded messages as somehow they all suddenly seemed to understand what to do next, "then that's what you'll get."

With a snap of Dick's finger – _he was always one for being dramatic,_ Bruce thought fondly – each of his sons pulled out their choice of weapon; a permanent marker for Damian, a set of the most ridiculously colored nail polish for Tim, a tangle of hair ribbons for Jason, and, of course, Dick's favorite "weapon": his camera.

Body tensing for a fight, Bruce snarled, "Over my dead body!"

* * *

**Fight**

The first time Damian had a fight with Dick was over the last of Alfred's cookies. Dick had tackled him the moment he realized that Damian also had his eyes on the very last of the sweets on the plate.

They wrestled then: tumbling, rolling, kicking, punching, even biting – doing anything to gain the upper hand.

Then Tim came around. "No one wants this?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before he took the **Last Cookie**.

Damian and Dick could only stare at Tim in disbelief.

**Agreement**

Damian and Dick glared at Tim, who only said, "Oops, sorry," without sounding sorry at all.

Damian narrowed his eyes, ready to pounce on Drake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dick. He growled. "Don't," he said, "Just don't." Because whatever Dick said, he wouldn't change his mind.

But Dick only said, "I'm with you on this one."

Damian turned to look at Dick, wondering if the man was serious. To his surprise, the man was dead serious. Damian smirked, a matching grin on Dick's face.

With a cry, they jumped on an unsuspecting Tim. He had no chance.

* * *

**Alliance**

If Bruce had to guess which of his sons be would most likely to form an alliance, he would say his oldest and his youngest. He had heard many stories about the great team they made back when they were still the Dynamic Duo.

If his sons would go two-on-two, however, then he would expect it to be Dick and Tim versus Damian and Jason. Their similar natures would make them gravitate towards each other.

He should have known better than to have expectations for his sons.

Since his sons really liked to prove him wrong these days, he found it was Damian and Tim who were tied to chairs, covered in red and blue goo, with Dick and Jason laughing on the side.

**Nine Out of Ten**

"I thought you said that Grayson and Todd fought all the time, Drake?"

"I said most of the time."

"And how often is that?"

"Nine out of ten."

"And the one time they don't fight?"

"They make one helluva team."

"'One helluva team', huh?"

**Text**

Tim was not stupid, far from it. So of course, he noticed the glare of doom Damian threw at Jason when Dick leaned on him, resting his head on the younger man's shoulder, laughing quietly, as if sharing a private joke. And at that moment, he didn't need any mindreading superpower to know that Damian was planning to kill Jason for "snatching" Dick from him.

And since Tim cared for Jason, he sent a text to warn his older brother.

"_Demon Brat has eyes on you. You're _so_ screwed."_

A laughing emoticon at the end.

He was such a good brother.

**Logic**

Even without Tim's oh-so-kind warning (could you tell he was being sarcastic?) Jason knew what Damian had in mind for him. And the exact reason behind it.

Despite the fact that Dick was no longer part of the Dynamic Duo, Jason knew that Damian still saw himself as the oldest bird's partner. His _sole_ partner.

Jason imagined Damian did not take it too well to seeing him go buddy-buddy with their oldest brother.

Logically, Jason should simply tell Damian that Dick and he were not partners. That Damian's position was not threatened in any way. Hell, he should tell the kid that Dick and he could _never_ stand to be each other's partner, for good measure.

That was the logical thing to do.

But Jason was never a fan of logic (that was more like Timmy, his replacement).

So instead of calming the brat down, he riled him up.

Jason pulled Dick close, chin resting on the older man's shoulder, one arm circling his waist in a possessive embrace.

It worked wonders.

Unsheathing his katana (_where the hell did the kid get that?_ Jason thought Dick had hidden it away the first time they became partners), Damian pointed it at Jason. "Get _away_ from him," he growled aggressively, the threat in his voice crystal clear.

Logically, Jason should step back, hands raised in surrender. But he snuggled closer instead, tightening his hold. From the corner of his eye, he could see Dick looking down at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Which he ignored, for the sake of annoying the little bird. "Why don't you make me?" he asked, challenging as he grinned at his youngest brother.

Cold blue-grey eyes narrowed. "You asked for it!"

And Damian leapt at him.

**Newfound**

Jason never thought that he would come up with the word "cute" when he thought about his youngest brother. Yet, here he was…

He grinned widely as he jumped from one rooftop to another, Damian hot on his heels.

"Well, I know he _was_ your partner. But he _is _flying solo now, and so _am I_. And **he and I** work _together_ wonderfully well. We will make a _great team_, don't you think?" Jason taunted, knowing all the right buttons to push to annoy his little brother.

A katana flying his way was Damian's answer.

Jason cackled as he dodged the weapon. He was starting to understand why Dick liked to mess with their heads so much; it _was _fun. He was happy to have a newfound hobby: annoying the Demon Brat.

**Brain Over Brawn**

Tim simply smiled when he watched Jason and Damian fight over who got to be Dick's partner. It seemed they had forgotten that they were not the only brothers Dick had. He grinned victoriously when he succeeded in snatching the oldest bird's partnership for the night's patrol from under his two arguing brothers' noses.

"Brain over brawn, boys," he smiled sweetly as he bragged in a sing-song voice, ignoring the death glares his brothers were sending him.

**Surprise**

Looking back, Tim realized that it had been glaringly obvious. He should have known there was something up the moment Jason and Damian approached him _together_. After all, those two would never team up without a more pressing matter to take care of (usually Dick having a date.)

In his defense, Tim would say that he had been too shocked to think that far ahead.

It had been Tim's birthday when Jason and Damian came to him, with a box – with its bright red wrapping paper and green bows atop of it, it looked like a _birthday gift_ – in the younger boy's hands.

"Here," Damian had offered the box with his usual predatory grin on his face. At the time, Tim had chosen to ignore it, thinking that it was his little brother's default smile. That had been his first mistake.

"Thank you," Tim had said once he got over his shock. Jason and Damian had shared a look then, before grinning even wider. That had been another clue that Tim had simply chosen to overlook.

"Why don't you open it, Timmy?" Jason had asked, his voice uncharacteristically sweet.

Dumbly (because never in million years would he think to put the words _Jason _and _sweet_ together **in the same sentence**), Tim had done as suggested. He had opened the box and…

… promptly got punched in the jaw by the boxing glove that sprung out.

"Bastards!" After recovering, Tim had chucked the box in Jason's direction, who simply ducked, laughing all the way.

The prank didn't hurt him as much as it annoyed him. The fact that his two brothers were laughing and high-fiving each other didn't help, either.

**Behind the Scene**

Perched atop one of the tallest buildings in Gotham, disguised as the Batman, Bruce watched as his three younger sons chased one another. Jason was in the lead, taunting Damian all the way. Hot on their heels, hell bent on taking revenge, was Tim. Good, sweet, calm Tim, who was now spewing the most vulgar curses Bruce had ever heard at his brothers for their little trick.

Bruce cringed. _It's always the quiet one who becomes the most frightening when angry._

And of course, all of this would not even have happened if not for his oldest son. Bruce turned to look at Dick, who was busy watching his brothers through a pair of Bat-techno-enhanced binoculars. Bruce was sure they had a video-recording feature. Dick and his blackmail obsession.

"When will you tell Red Robin that it was you who gave them the idea for that, I quote, 'wretched misleading birthday gift'?"

"When he figures it out for himself or when he crosschecks with Hood and Robin," Dick answered, not bothering to even look at Bruce.

"And why are you doing this again?" Bruce asked.

"So they can bond," Dick answered as if it was obvious.

Bruce turned to look back at his younger sons. Jason now had his guns out, a disturbingly wide grin on his face as he aimed each at his younger brothers. Tim had his bo staff with him, glaring at both Jason and Damian. While Damian, predictably, focused on Jason, ignoring Tim completely.

"Bond," Bruce deadpanned.

**Bonding**

"Just watch," Dick said with a grin on his face.

And that was when Bruce realized that a gang of lowly criminals was approaching his quarrelling sons. His body tensed, ready for a fight, but Dick's hand on his shoulder prevented him from taking any action.

"They can take those goons easily, even alone," Dick said.

"But they are not alone, now, are they?" Bruce hissed, glaring at his oldest son.

"They're together, which is always better than being alone."

"_Fighting_," Bruce could not help the growl as he pointed out this fact.

"Are they?"

"They—" Bruce turned, just in time to see Tim intercept a goon who was sneaking behind Damian, with scarily accurate timing. Not a moment later, Tim was being shoved aside by Jason. Bruce frowned in disapproval at Jason's seemingly thoughtless action, before he realized that despite his previous infractions, Jason was actually pushing Tim _away_ from the line of fire.

Jason grinned, aiming his own gun at the thug who was just about to shoot Tim. But before he could pull the trigger, Damian had already made his move. He kicked the back of the criminal's head, hard, and the goon fell unconscious.

Damian smirked as he said something to Jason, who scowled at the younger boy, but put his gun back.

Dick's grin was smug as he said, "See, bonding."

* * *

**Okay, excuse time! So, just so you know that I'm sorry for the (very) late update. And I know I promised a longer chapter, but you see... The problem was this one got very long, then I just had to divide it into 2 parts. In other words, yeah, I have another chapter after this. Aren't you happy to hear that? ;p And the reasons why it took me very long time to post this were because: 1) I was (still kinda am) busy with my college life. 2) Because it took me (and BookJunkie)some time to finish and polish this, so tell me what you think! :)**

******I changed the formatting a little in this chapter. Instead of dividing every part, a line is used to divide every "arc", as BJ put it. Tell me what you think about it. And, of course, thank you very much for all the reviews and faves and follows, they motivate me to write more and better. :)**

******Since, this chapter is more fun than drama or hurt/comfort** hopefully this one can make you all laugh. **Good day everyone and see you, hopefully soon.** :) 


	5. Friends

******Thanks to:** **anakinlove,** who proofread the first version of Snapshots and especially ******B****ookJunkie**, who spoiled me with her kindness, who stayed by my side even if I was being a troublesome writer who kept adding scenes after scenes. :)

* * *

**Domestic**

It was a great morning for Bruce Wayne: not only were his four sons together, but they actually were not trying to kill each other for once! He couldn't help the dopey smile on his face as he watched them.

Dick was fussing over Damian, taming down – or _trying_ to anyway – his perpetually spiky hair, straightening non-existent wrinkles on his shirt, and checking that his tie was done okay over and over again.

Damian was scowling and protesting that he was not a kid and could do it on his own. All the same, he never physically tried to stop Dick. Not even once.

Jason was picking at Tim's breakfast, despite having exactly the same breakfast on his own plate, while shooting teasing remarks at Dick and Damian and earning himself a glare from Damian and a "Be nice, Jay" from Dick.

Tim was glaring at Jason. Since it was ignored, he chose to take matters into his own hands, which meant he started eating from Jason's untouched plate. At times, he'd tease Damian along with Jason and at other times, he'd agree with Dick just to mess with Jason's head.

Bruce shook his head, a smile on his lips. It was the closest thing to a domestic scene that this household would ever see.

**Breaking Up**

Bruce knew something was up the moment Jason came into the Manor – WILLINGLY, Bruce could not stress that word enough – with a wide grin on his face and one arm slung over Tim's shoulder, who, Bruce noted with increasing anxiety, sported the same wide grin, if slightly more friendly and a little bit bone-chilling. Behind them, with a small satisfied grin of his own, stood Damian. The three of them were _laughing_ and high-fiving one another, as if to celebrate a job well done.

Bruce was afraid to think what that job was if it could make his three younger sons look _this _happy.

"Hey, Bruce!" Jason greeted. His face was bright and his voice was cheerful, neither of which were good signs when it came to his second son.

"Something good happened?" Bruce asked casually, because there was no way that he would show his sons – his mischievous, sometimes rebellious sons – that _he_ was wary of _them_.

Jason exchanged a look with his younger brothers and his grin turned predatory. "Eh, something like that." He shrugged.

Later that day, Bruce found out that Dick had been dumped by his three-week-long girlfriend.

And everything clicked into place. Bruce facepalmed; his boys and their possessiveness. Sometimes he wondered where they got it.

"Their father, of course," Clark commented.

"But they had different fathers," Bruce pointed out. Clark just stared at him as if he were dumb – Bruce had to resist the temptation to strike him with kryptonite. "Well?" Bruce crossed his arms across his chest, still waiting for a rebuttal. Clark sighed, before walking away and muttering under his breath about an idiot of a detective too blind to see what was right in front of him.

* * *

**Essay**

Dick found Damian's homework. It was an essay describing his family. Written on it was...

_I live with my father and his butler, who acts like my father's father._

_I have three older brothers._

_One who acts like a mother._

_One who acts like a bastard brother._

_And one who acts like a bitchy sister._

**Recognition**

It was the first time Colin came to the Manor.

He saw Bruce, and he knew that the man was Damian's father.

He saw Dick fussing over Bruce and he nudged Damian, "Your 'mother' brother?"

Damian nodded.

He saw Jason in the living room, sitting on the couch, arms spread out over the back of it, and feet propped up on the table.

"Your 'bastard' brother?"

Another nod.

He saw Tim, tinkering with a laptop on his lap. On the back of it there was a "Don't touch!" sticker.

"Bitchy one?"

Damian grinned. "Congratulations, you got an A on the 'Guess who is who' quiz."

Colin elbowed him in the ribs. "No need to be sarcastic."

**Family Picture**

Colin stared at the laptop on his lap. Damian had said it was his. Colin wondered if his friend had actually "borrowed" it from his guardian.

The screen saver was a photo of Damian's entire family.

They were in the living room. Damian's father was in the middle of the couch, leaning sideways as he tried to avoid Damian's bitchy brother, who was drenched in some kind of orangey-green goo. The goo was obviously courtesy of Damian's bastard brother, who was laughing and standing behind the couch holding an upturned bucket in his hand. On Bruce's other side was Damian, wearing a blue hoodie that Colin was sure was Dick's. His friend leaned close to his father, though he was looking at his mother brother, who was fussing over him and at the same time yelling at his two other younger brothers.

Colin swore he could hear the words Dick said. _"Boys! Behave!"_

On the other side stood Damian's grandfatherly butler, a look of panic and amusement crinkling his eyes as he offered Tim a handkerchief.

It was utter chaos. But apparently this was the way Damian liked it.

* * *

**Reunion**

Damian knew that today Dick was going to meet his former Titan teammates for their so-called annual reunion. And even if he knew he wasn't invited, he intended to go just the same. Because Dick was his brother, his guardian, his mentor, his… whatever he needed him to be, and Damian did NOT like to share. He would show Dick's friends exactly that.

That was what he'd planned, anyway.

But as he watched Dick share stories with his former teammates, a wide grin on his face, he couldn't help but wonder if Dick looked that happy, if Dick enjoyed himself that much, when he was with him.

_Won't Dick be angry if I come barging in uninvited now?_

"Stop thinking and just move, Brat."

Damian's head snapped towards the source of the voice.

"Todd!?" Damian's eyes were wide with disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Crashing the party, of course," came the answer, followed by laughter Damian knew quite well.

Damian turned to his left. "Drake?"

"The one and only, kid," Tim saluted him mockingly.

"What are you two—" the question was on the tip of Damian's tongue, but the older men were already walking towards Dick.

"You coming or not?" Tim asked as he walked backwards beside Jason.

Damian stood still as Jason and Tim went to sit beside Dick. Even from where he was standing – close enough that he could still see what was happening clearly, but far enough to not be noticed – he could see how his oldest brother's grin widened.

Dick turned around in his seat, looking around, mouth forming words Damian couldn't make out. Jason jabbed his thumb in his direction and Dick's gaze followed it. His face lit up when his eyes met Damian's. He waved enthusiastically.

Having yet to regain his composure completely, Damian waved back, before he shook his head to ward off his remaining shock and jogged towards his brothers.

**Coincidence**

"Hello guys, what a coincidence to meet you all here," Jason was grinning from ear to ear as he said this.

"Coincidence, my ass!" Wally protested. "You all must've—" but the rest of his complaint was cut off as Dick chided, "Wally, language!"

"Oh, come on!" Wally threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "The kid lives in Gotham, he has you three as his brothers, and he does you-know-what almost every night. Relatively mild cussing won't hurt him," he reasoned. "I bet he has his own cuss-dictionary!"

Dick glared and Wally stopped, shoulders slumping in defeat. "But I still don't believe this is a coincidence!" he exclaimed stubbornly. "I mean, last year it was you," he glared at Jason, who simply grinned smugly, "who 'coincidentally' showed up, the year before that it was you," his glare turned to Tim, who put on his most innocent _who? –me?_ look, "and this year all three of you are conveniently here together!" he rambled, hands flailing animatedly.

"Told you it'll never work," Roy said from beside him. "You know how possessive the Bats are."

"And I believe Alfred showed up once too," Wally grumbled, letting his chin rest on the table sulkily. "I won't be surprised if Bruce shows up too."

And right at the moment…

"Hello, boys."

Wally straightened from his slouched position and looked up at the newcomer. "You must be kidding me," he groaned, slapping his forehead in frustration.

"Hello Bruce," Tim greeted as he turned slightly on his seat to look at the man, grinning cheekily. "Thought you had a late meeting?"

"Remembered there was a family emergency," Bruce answered smoothly as he took a seat beside Tim.

Wally started banging his head on the table, muttering about crazy Bats with chronic cases of possessiveness.

Roy smirked. "Told you so."

* * *

**Privilege**

Damian didn't know what he had expected to happen if ever Jason and Tim got wind of the "nicknames" his classmates had given him.

But whatever it was, it certainly was not this.

"I'll kill those bastards," Jason said as he loaded his beloved .45, voice stone cold.

"Don't," Tim stopped him, putting a hand on Jason's gun so as to lower it. "Death would be too easy."

_Huh?_ Damian was dumbfounded. He knew Dick could be quite… ruthless when the situation called for it. He just never knew that Tim shared that particular trait.

"Why?" Damian asked once he found his voice again. He didn't understand. True, his relationship with his so-called older brothers was getting better – at least now they didn't try to kill one another on a regular basis – but it was not like Jason or Tim were about to win Best Brother of the Year awards. In fact, their loving nicknames for him were still "Demon Brat" and "Hell Spawn."

"Big brother's privilege, kid," Jason answered, flicking Damian's head.

Damian scowled, but otherwise did nothing.

"_We _can call you anything we want," Tim said, agreeing with Jason. "Only us though, no one else."

"And where the hell you did get this silly idea, huh?" Damian asked.

Jason and Tim didn't answer, they merely turned their heads to look at their oldest brother, who just grinned.

Damian suppressed his urge to facepalm. Of course. He should have known.

* * *

**Simplicity**

Love was a complicated thing, Damian knew. But Dick made it so simple.

"I love you," Dick said with that same soft smile, affection clear in his eyes.

Damian frowned, not understanding. As much he hated to admit it, he had heard many people say that he was not the easiest person to deal with, nor was he the most pleasant. Then…

"Why?"

Dick's face softened. "Maybe because you're Bruce's son, maybe because you're my brother. Maybe because you're you."

Damian's frown deepened. "That doesn't make sense."

Dick merely laughed and ruffled Damian's hair. And as per usual, Damian scowled, swatting his hand away. Dick flicked Damian's forehead, grinning as he said. "Maybe it doesn't have to."

**Mine**

Damian had not planned to eavesdrop, he honestly had not. He had simply been looking for Dick when he'd stumbled upon this particular conversation.

"How can you stand that Demon Brat?"

Damian recognized that voice as Wallace "Wally" West, the current Flash, another of his oldest brother's best friends. He instinctively stayed close to the wall, to the shadows, to conceal his presence.

"Don't let Jayjay hear you call Damian that. Or Timmy for that matter. They don't like it much when anyone but themselves calls their little brother names."

Damian knew that voice anywhere. Dick. He could hear both the playful tone and the well hidden sharp edge underneath, and wondered if the Flash did also. Dick himself did not like it when people insulted Damian. Even West. And the ginger idiot was supposed to be Dick's best friend! Ha! Damian felt triumph tugging his lips upwards.

"Well?"

Damian could hear Dick sigh. "I don't know, maybe because I just do. Why do you love your kids?"

"It's different," the so-called Fastest Man Alive said, sounding defensive. "Firstly, they're not as bad as that brat. Secondly, they're _mine_."

"Damian _is_ mine."

The possessiveness in Dick's voice was unmistakable, daring the redhead to deny his statement. Wisely, West did not.

Damian could not help the wide grin that crept onto his face.

"And Damian, you can come out now."

Damian froze. _Busted._

* * *

**Masters**

Despite being _the_ Batman, Bruce was not undefeatable in a debate. Clark realized a long time ago that against Alfred Bruce had a slim chance of winning – wait, come to think of it, the chance of Bruce winning was actually _non-existent_. The billionaire was just too stubborn to heed anyone's advice, including Alfred's, thus giving the butler many opportunities of saying "I told you so." A pity Alfred was too much of a gentleman to say those words right to Bruce's face. Aside from Alfred, the only one who could be even more stubborn than Bruce was, unsurprisingly, Dick.

So when Alfred _and_ Dick teamed up together to get a sick Bruce to stay home from patrol, Clark knew his friend had no chance of winning. Bruce might be the official head of the family, but, as they say, "Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes." In this case, change 'woman' into 'one loyal butler.' And 'one protective son.'

**Reminiscence **

Personally, Clark had nothing against the current Robin. Sure the kid was a little bit… wild, but then again, that Jason had been, too. And Tim. And Dick. _Especially_ Dick. It seemed like _every_ Robin was wild in their own unique way. Even that Stephanie girl.

About the kid's intensive training as an _assassin_, well… It was clear that he had not had any choice in the matter, until recently. And he had chosen to be Robin, to be a hero.

So, yes, Clark might not like the kid – the boy was a brat – but he certainly did not hate him either.

**Jinx**

"At least, he doesn't go on a crazy pranking spree once a year," Clark voiced out his opinion. "Or once a week," he corrected after a moment.

Bruce glared at him from behind his cowl. "Don't jinx us."

Clark felt like grinning. It was just too funny for someone as serious as Batman to worry about something as trivial as a pranking spree. "Come on, the kid's way too serious for his own good. The possibility of that happening is pretty low, I guess."

"You forget who raised him."

"Who?" Clark asked, humoring his friend. "Ra's Al-Ghul's daughter? Gee Bruce, I didn't think that was really her thing…" he grinned at the rare chance to tease Bruce.

Ignoring Clark's sarcasm, Bruce answered in a deadpan, "Nightwing." Clark paled. "And the penny drops," Bruce muttered under his breath.

"You don't think he would—" Clark never finished his sentence as the alarms started ringing, flashing yellow lights instead of the normal red. The Robin Alarms. "Uh oh."

"'Uh oh' indeed."

* * *

**Competitive**

Damian was a competitive person. He could make anything into some kind of competition. Including Dick's affection. He was pretty sure he took the lead on that one.

That was until he saw Dick sitting in front of his parents' graves, a sad smile on his face as he spoke "with" them.

And Damian realized he could not compete with dead people.

**Paranoia**

Damian did not remember – nor did he care to – where he had heard it, but he remembered someone saying that when a person died they could meet with their late loved ones.

Dick was not suicidal. Sometimes, though, his oldest brother seemed a tad bit too daring for Damian's liking. And he wondered…

Was Dick unconsciously looking for a way to meet his parents again?

If it was between his parents, the family he once had, and Damian, Father, Todd, Drake and the others, the dysfunctional family he had now, with whom would Dick choose to stay?

Damian wanted to know the answer, but at the same time feared it.

_What if…_

Damian shook his head, forcing himself to forget the silly notion. He was just being paranoid.

Right?

**Compromise**

Damian went to confront Dick the moment he heard that his oldest brother was going on a League mission. "I'm coming with you," he did not ask, but stated. Because he _was_ going with Dick, come Hell or high water.

"No," was Dick's simple answer. Blunt and to the point.

"I'm not letting you go alone," Damian argued.

Dick sighed. "I won't be alone, you know that."

Damian did not even try to hide his distaste. "You might as well go alone. Even Todd is better." Dick let out another sigh, but he was not caving in. Damian switched tactics, "Are we not partners?"

"We were. Not anymore."

Ouch. That one hurt. But Damian was already familiar with Dick's many diversion tactics. Upsetting his opponent was one of them. And he refused to fall for it.

"I'm still coming," Damian insisted. Before Dick could argue he quickly added, "Because we're brothers." Then he went for the jugular, "Or am I no longer your brother, either?" There was just no way Dick would deny their bond as brothers. Especially when Damian was the one to acknowledge it, for once.

And as expected, Dick faltered, his face scrunched up in indecision. "It's not… It's too dangerous…"

But Damian was just as stubborn as his brother, if not more so. "All the more reason for me to come with you."

"Damian…" Dick ran a hand through his hair. "If something happens to you… I can't… Just… Stay here. Where I know you're safe… Please…" He was pleading now.

Damian's jaws clenched, hands balling at his sides as he cursed up a storm in his head. Dick did not play fair. How was he supposed to argue when Dick was standing there looking like… like Damian meant the world to him? As if he could not afford to lose him?

Damian looked away, sighing, shoulders sagging. He knew he had lost. That did not mean he had to like it. "You _will_ come back," Damian said. It was not a question, nor was it a request. He was above such things. It was a demand. A compromise.

"I will," Dick promised solemnly.

**Realization**

Dick asked Tim to watch after Damian while he was away on a mission. That was when Tim realized that, yes, Damian might be the furthest thing from winning a Little Brother of the Year award – if there was such a thing – but he was still his little brother. The little brother Tim had never had growing up.

And the fact that Dick trusted him enough to keep an eye on the youngest bird, Dick's baby, was frightening as much as it was humbling. Tim would not mess this up.

**Babysitting**

Tim was, as Jason had so eloquently put it, on babysitting duty.

"Can I kill him?" Damian asked innocently. He thought for a moment before adding, "I'll even say please."

Tim suppressed his urge to whack his little brother upside the head. It took every ounce of self-control he had, but he managed to keep calm. "No, Robin. You can_not_ kill him," he said and before Damian could say anything, he added. "Or anyone for that matter."

Damian deflated, arms folded across his chest, lower lip jutted out ever so lightly. He couldn't help but sulk, since he'd been told off even before he could make his case. "Spoil sport."

Tim's eye twitched in annoyance, but he refrained from saying anything.

**Familiarity**

"I saw you handling Robin. Never knew you had that deep a well of patience."

Tim simply shrugged at Connor's comment. "He's not all that bad once you know him," he said, his tone neutral, if a little bit defensive.

"So, you _are_ getting to know him."

A witty comeback was on the tip of Tim's tongue when his brain helpfully pointed out that yes, his friend was right. Damian's antics had become familiar and dealing with them was second nature to him now.

He stopped dead in his track, eyes widening, face paling.

_The horror!_

**Red Haze**

Dick was a peaceful person, as peaceful as a person could be when raised in the company of vigilantes, anyway. But when someone threatened their little brother, he'd go nearly homicidal. Sometimes Tim wondered what it felt like.

Now he knew.

It felt like a red haze had fallen upon him, misting his vision. This didn't cloud his mind, or make him impatient, as was supposed to happen when one's mind was consumed by anger, though. No, if anything it only served to heighten his senses and sharpen his mind.

He turned calculating eyes towards the villain, the one who had dared to lay a finger on his little brother. And for the first time, he wished that his weapon was something more than merely a staff. Something sharper, heavier, _deadlier_.

_Oh well, it'll have to do, _he thought, smirking as he raised his bo staff.

**Bloody**

The haze dispersed when Tim felt a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stop. For a second he wondered how Dick could come so soon before he realized it was Jason who stood beside him. His mind came to a halt, unable to come up with a reason for why Jason was there. Then as if reading his mind – and maybe Jason did, who knew what kind of useful creepiness he brought with him when he was resurrected – Jason said, "If he asked you to watch over Demon Brat there, what makes you think he wouldn't ask me to watch over the both of you?"

Tim nodded, accepting Jason's admission. That made sense, that's the kind of thing his oldest brother always did.

He looked down at his hands. They were bloody. And he was fine with that.

_That_ was what was disturbing him.

**Perspective**

"Help me up, Red Robin," Damian demanded. "I've got a sprain," he explained, glaring at his ankle as if it had just betrayed him.

Tim hesitated, before stepping back. "No," he shook his head. "I'm dirty." In more ways than one. He looked down at his clenched hand. The blood was still dripping. And he did not want to taint his little brother. No.

But Damian was nothing but stubborn. Tim could see his eyes narrow behind the mask. "I don't care."

Tim smiled ruefully. "You just won't take no for an answer, will you?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Damn right."

Tim sighed before going over to where Damian sat and squatting, his back to the younger boy.

"What the hell are you doing?" Damian asked, and even without looking Tim was sure that the kid was narrowing his eyes.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Climb on, Baby Bird."

"I won't—"

"Fine, bridal style it is then," Tim said, _threatened_ really, turning around on his heel to emphasize his point.

With ill-hidden horror, Damian latched onto Tim's back. Tim smirked triumphantly.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" Damian grumbled.

"Takes one to know one," Tim volleyed back in a sing-song voice.

Damian glared. Tim grinned. He could feel the heat of his little brother's glare even though he could not see it. He was starting to understand why Dick had become so attached to Damian. And why he liked to tease the kid so much.

**Answer**

When Dick came back from the League mission, looking more dead than alive, every single League member– even those who knew nothing about Dick's mission – had to answer not only to Bruce, but to Damian as well.

**Lines**

"What the hell were you thinking? Did you even think _at all_?"

"Dami, I—"

"Why are you so damn keen on sacrificing yourself? Do you like playing hero that much, huh?"

"Damian, it's not like that!"

"How is it then!? You don't mind throwing your life away since you'll get to see your parents again? Is that it?"

A shocked gasp, followed by a sharp reprimand, "Damian!"

"Whatever," was all Damian said, before turning away and fleeing the room.

And Damian knew he had crossed a line. A line he would never have even thought to touch.

**Goodbye**

Damian was sure this was goodbye, so he braced himself accordingly.

But Dick was always surprising him. And this time was no different.

Instead of yelling or demanding an apology, he simply said, "I'm not leaving, you know," quietly, solemnly, as he looked Damian right in the eye.

Damian wanted to act indifferent, to tell Dick that he had it all wrong. Except that he did not. His brother understood perfectly that for all of his bravery fighting criminals he was frightened of being left alone.

"Promise?" Damian hated how childish he sounded, how his voice almost cracked at the end.

But as Dick pulled him into an embrace, tucking his head into his shoulder, and whispered a quiet "Promise" Damian found himself not caring.

**Alternate**

"I would've killed them all, had you not come back from that stupid mission."

And Dick thought he should have felt mortified about Damian's confession. And he did, if only because he feared for Damian's life should he choose to take the whole Justice League on his own. But mostly, he only felt touched, that his little brother would go that far for him.

"But I came back," Dick pointed out calmly.

"You better not pull that kind of stunt again, Grayson."

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to make you worry."

"Who says I'm worried?"

* * *

**Back **

Damian knew that Dick had his back. And it seemed that maybe, just maybe – perhaps, hopefully – Dick trusted him enough to watch his.

**Vulnerable**

Jason had gone missing for days. At the same time with the Joker had been out of Arkham. Naturally, Dick went after the villain. Damian felt no jealousy, knowing that had the same thing happened to him, Dick's reaction would have been the same, if not more extreme.

Then Jason came back without even a new scratch on his body. For once, his disappearance had nothing to do with the Joker. The whole family – and some of Dick's friends, Damian hated to admit – was deployed to find the Dick and stop him.

It was Harper who found Dick, hands bloodied, eyes crazed, ready to kill.

Damian could tell the redhead was afraid – wary at the least – of Dick. Damian knew Dick could see this too. It was just all too clear from the way his face fell, the way he smiled sadly. For all of his strength, Dick could be so damn vulnerable sometimes, since he let his heart wide open.

So Damian pushed his oldest brother to father. Because as much as he wanted to, he knew father was more capable of protecting Dick now.

* * *

**Sweet**

No one would believe him whenever he said that despite everything, Damian was a sweet child, in his own way. Roy and Wally simply looked at him as if wondering what was wrong with him, before shaking their heads. Donna just changed the subject every time he brought it up to her. Clark once merely put a hand on his shoulder in reply, as if placating a man with deep-rooted delusions.

_Oh well, their loss,_ he thought, grinning from ear to ear when he saw his kid brother stomp towards him, looking ready for battle. Damian stopped before him, looking up with his face scrunched up and his steely gray-blue eyes narrowed, as if contemplating what his next move should be. Dick merely raised an eyebrow questioningly, too used to his little brother's antics to be fazed. Damian took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax before awkwardly wounding his arms around Dick's waist.

"Happy birthday."

And Dick grinned, widely. _See? Sweet._

**Words**

It never ceased to amaze Dick the effect some words had on his little brother.

Simple words like "I love you". Or Dick's favorite…

"My baby!" Dick would mock-coo, ruffling his little brother's hair.

Glaring, Damian would swat Dick's hand away not-so-gently. And he would deny vehemently, "Not a baby!"

Dick would grin then, noticing how Damian protested about being called a baby but not that he was Dick's.

**Spellbound**

Being a hero for as long as he had, there were few things that could surprise Dick. He had just about seen everything. But this spell on Damian was new. It was also _cute_, to say the least.

Dick stepped back, away from Damian.

Damian scowled, without him noticing, stepping closer to Dick.

Dick grinned. He could guess what the spell had done to his brother, but he wanted to make sure. He took several steps back.

A confused frown marring his face, Damian went even closer to Dick.

Dick's grin widened. He knelt down so he could be at the same eye level as Damian, who just stared at him blankly, not understanding. Gently, Dick pulled him into a hug. For a second, Damian tensed, before his body relaxed and, seemingly without his consent, his hands wrapped around Dick's neck, snuggling into his shoulder.

"So you do care, huh?" Dick asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Damian was about to retort with some nasty sarcastic remark, but to his horror, instead of something snarky, the words that came from his mouth were, "Of course." Damian wanted nothing more than to shove Dick away and run, but he found himself tightening his grip instead. So he did the only thing he could to save his pride. Hiding his face in the older man's shirt, he then mumbled "I love you." With the damn spell making him unable to lie, he could only hope his oldest brother would somehow mishear it as, "I hate you".

From Dick's amused laugh though, the chance that he had was slim to none.

**Tumbling**

"So, you don't hate me?"

Damian scowled. "No." His scowl became fiercer as his face reddened.

Dick chuckled. "You love me, then?"

Damian glared at Dick, who merely raised his eyebrows. "Yes." Damian answered through gritted teeth.

"How much?" Dick sounded more amused by the second.

"Grayson! Stop asking me stupid questions!" Damian snapped.

"How much?" Dick insisted, ignoring his little brother completely.

"Very much so!" Damian yelled his answer, face a dark shade of red.

Dick grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Someone, teach me how to make this spell last forever."

Damian muttered under his breath about how he would kill the spell caster in the slowest, most torturous way possible. Yes, he would make the entire world of pesky magicians, with stupid spells that made truth tumble from his mouth, pay dearly.

* * *

**Dare**

Damian was cursing Jason to hell and back again for daring him to do this. He was also muttering promises of a slow and painful death to Tim for coming up with the idea to play Truth or Dare to begin with.

But he had been dared, _challenged_, and Hell would freeze over before he backed down. The issue of embarrassing himself in public, notwithstanding.

So here he was…

Dick was once again representing his father for some random charity event. The man was at the podium now, ready to give a heartfelt thank-you speech.

It was time, Damian knew. Steeling himself, he marched up to the podium.

Dick only stared at him in confusion, a question in his eyes. Then Damian tugged at his tie, pulling him down. And before he could say or do anything, Damian flung his hands to his neck, hugging him.

"I LOVE YOU, BROTHER!" Damian yelled as loud as he could – just as the dare dictated – before standing on his tiptoes and kissing his oldest brother's cheek.

For a second, Dick just stood there, frozen in surprise, then he regained his composure and pulled Damian in, hugging him back. "Love you too, Little D," he said softly, smiling as he ruffled his little brother's hair.

Red right up to his ears, Damian nodded his acknowledgement stiffly before letting go.

**Speech**

"Whoever brave enough, or should I say _stupid_ enough to dare my baby brother to do that, I thank you. I appreciate it, really. It was one of the nicest things that have ever happened to me," Dick said, smiling sincerely. "You know where to find me to collect your reward." His smile turned into a grin. "That is, if you can survive my little brother."

* * *

**Ugly**

"Am I ugly?"Damian asked one evening, out of the blue. It was more like a demand really, what with the way he folded his arms across his chest and spoke mercilessly bluntly. But Dick had learned to see through Damian's tough front. And right now Damian was, for whatever reason, feeling insecure.

Dick raised his eyebrows, though by now he knew better than to make light of what to Damian was such a serious matter. "Of course not," he said with a cheeky grin plastered all over his face, his tone cheerful, hoping to lighten the somewhat tense atmosphere. "After all, you've got your father's good looks."

"I don't mean physically, Grayson," Damian deadpanned. How someone of his age and stature could sound so belittling was beyond Dick.

"Ah," Dick faltered, for once not knowing what to say. He was a good liar, he knew that. Despite popular belief, he was not all rainbows and sunshine. The problem was he just could not lie to his family, especially Damian, his littlest brother. The kid seemed to have a built-in lie sensor within him. So since lying was not an option, he went for the next best thing, which was to remain completely neutral. "Nobody's perfect, Dami," he said as gently as he could, hoping that his answer was good enough to appease Damian's worry. But of course Damian just had to be able to read between the lines. The kid was too perceptive for his own good, sometimes.

"I am then," Damian stated, his face set in angry scowl. Dick could see the hurt simmering beneath the anger though. As clear as crystal.

"But that's okay," Dick was quick to reassure. "Because I'm ugly too—" Damian frowned, he seemed to be ready to argue, but Dick hastily continued, "I _am_, don't you dare deny that." The frown on Damian's face deepened, though he said nothing. "But you love me anyway," Dick finished, grinning widely.

Damian rolled his eyes at that, though his body relaxing told Dick he'd said the right thing. "I don't love you," Damian drawled.

"But you don't hate me either," Dick pointed out, eyebrows raised as if daring Damian to deny him.

Damian huffed. "Idiot."

But he did not deny it.

Dick grinned.

**Quotes**

_Do you love me because I'm beautiful, or_

_Am I beautiful because you love me?_

Damian found the cheesy quote – from _Winnie the Pooh_ of all of things – written on a bright green Post-It on the mirror in the bathroom. The last line was highlighted in obnoxious blue.

The message was clear.

With a small smile on his lips, he picked up a yellow highlighter – another obvious message – and highlighted the last line.

* * *

**Massacre**

Roy stared at the scene below from his perch on top of the abandoned warehouse.

Sometimes Roy wondered if all villains were idiots. Nightwing might be a solitary character, but his alter ego – one Dick Grayson – was not. He was a beloved son and brother. And to abduct him was never a good idea. It was bad enough back when the man had been Robin with the Batman as his partner. Now, taking him away equaled a death wish, for Dick had three dangerous brothers, and two of them would not hesitate to maim anyone who dared to lay a finger on their oldest brother.

Roy stared at the ever gloomy sky of Gotham, a grin on his face as he mused. _Tonight, it will rain blood._

**Deathstroke**

"Now, now, you know where you actually belong, do you not?" Slade had one of his hands stretched out, as if reaching out to him.

Dick took a step back, away from Slade, shoulders hunching in a defensive stance. Amongst villains, Deathstroke was one of the ones he loathed the most. He hated how the older man could make him doubt himself, make him feel unworthy and dirty. And above all, he despised the way the villain could make him wonder if he was on the right side.

"I…" he hated the way his voice faltered, the uncertainty in his voice as his hand automatically went to his wounded side so as to stem the flow of blood. It was hard enough to fight Slade when he was in peak condition. There was no way he could win injured as he was. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He stood straight, holding his head high. If he was going down, then he would go down fighting. "Not with you, that's for certain," he said with a grin on his face.

He crouched down, readying for an attack when he heard a soft thud coming from behind him. Out of reflex, he turned his head to look at the newcomer. He only got a flash of a familiar crest of a bat spreading its wings before he felt a hand closing his eyes, pulling him close, shielding him. _Bruce,_ he thought, relief flooding him.

"Get with the program, you bastard. If there's one assassin he's associated with, that's me."

He knew that snarky young voice anywhere. _Damian_, his mind supplied, a smile tugging up at his lips. There was the telltale sound of guns clicking and the whizzing of a batarang. _Jason, Tim_.

And he relaxed. His family had come.

**Would Have**

"I would have killed my parents' killer if it weren't for Bruce," Dick confessed, not wanting to hide that particular fact from his little brother.

"Oh," was Damian's only response. Cold and uncaring. As if it didn't matter that Dick had the potential to be a cold-blooded killer and, at one point in time, didn't care much if he became one. "I would have remained an assassin if it weren't for you."

And maybe, it didn't.

* * *

**Continuation**

After making sure that his door was securely locked, Damian went to his bed. Kneeling down, he rummaged underneath, grinning triumphantly when he found the hard cover of the album he was looking for. He pulled it out, dusting the cover before opening it.

The first photo was that of his father and his oldest brother. His father was in his 20's, standing straight-backed, one hand on Dick's shoulder, a small genuine smile on his lips. Dick stood close beside him, grinning widely, blue eyes bright.

Damian's gaze softened. _This is where it started._

He wasn't sentimental enough to keep photos, but Dick was. His oldest brother had loads of albums in his own room. Damian just liked to "borrow" them once in a while when, you know, he wanted to know about his family before he came. Not that he wanted to reminisce or anything. Of course not, he wasn't old enough to do that. Besides, he wasn't sentimental, _Dick_ was.

Dick never noticed. Or if he did, he never said anything. Damian didn't think he would mind. He was pretty sure his brother had at _least_ one extra copy of every photo.

He rested his back on the side of his bed as he looked through the album, a soft smile on his lips as he flipped through his family's antics.

"Dami! Dinner's ready!"

Damian started hearing Dick call him from down the corridor. Damn, didn't time fly? Hastily, he shoved the album back under his bed. He made his way towards the door, unlocking it before he opened it. "Coming!" he yelled as his answer.

He glanced back at his bed one last time before he closed the door behind him.

He wasn't sentimental, but he liked to think that there would be more – knowing Dick, _many_ more – albums full of photos that Dick would pile on the shelf in his room, more for Damian to shove under his bed. He liked to think that this, what he had now, wasn't the end.

That it was just the beginning.

**END**

* * *

**Ah! Finally! You don't know how glad I am to finish this (even if Tara aka BookJunkie, my Beta right now, says there's always the possibility of me continuing this).**

**Now, let's get to my excuse this time.**

**So actually, by the time I posted chapter 4, chapter 5 was done. But then there were reviewers who gave me ideas and I just could not not write them. (**Squee the magical bunny**, who wanted to see hurt!Dick or breakup!Dick, I did it, though maybe it was not what you expected. :D and **KK** who gave me the ideas for Reminiscence, Jinx, Master, and Deathstroke. I'm really sorry I can't reply your review personally.) **

**I went to write them and before long, I was adding new scenes here and there. So, yeah. Sorry for the long wait, hope it was worth it. :)**

**And just because Snapshots has ended, doesn't mean I'll stop writing. In fact, I have one story that's being beta-ed right now, planning to post it as soon as possible. See you soon! :)**


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